


轰轰烈烈最疯狂 Truly, Wildly, Deeply, Madly

by drelfina



Series: Wei AU [14]
Category: Original Work, San Guo Yan Yi | Romance of the Three Kingdoms - All Media Types
Genre: ABO protectiveness, ABO traits, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, And more characters to come if i remember!, Anger, Everyone Has Issues, Intersex ABO, M/M, Mutually Unrequited, Nepotism, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Ooc out the wazoo, Out of Character, Pining, Politics, Possibly Unreliable Narrator, Recklessness, Sanguao ABO, So much navel gazing, Threats of Violence, Wei Wu Shu, entertainer industry, have pity on my fingers, hints of idol/celebrity culture in all three countries, i'm sorry for the wordcount, long fic, married fic, modern sanguo AU, nepotism but special, one nation three countries, sanguo politics do not reflect irl politics, slow fucking burn except it's not really slow burn, so much thinking, surprise! Two gay betas what does it mean, the differences between Shu Wu and Wei, the mains get together in chapter 3, there is slow burn except not burn just me screaming, these characters do not have anything to do with the people who share their names, this would be slow burn if the fic wasn't 80k+, tight third person POV, wei AU, wei au politics, what it means to be 'gay' in ABO, what it means to be a Favourite, what it means to be beta, what it means to come under a Banner, written for me and like 3 people, xwz has anger issues, you really need to at least skim the previous fics to get at this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 44,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28924074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drelfina/pseuds/drelfina
Summary: It all starts in 2016, in a bar in Chongqing, after Xu Weizhou's life goes to pieces for acting in a BL drama.But he's never regrettedAddicted, and not his role. He had always, always been clear on just where the blame laid, and he would spend the rest of his life saying so.In Chongqing, he meets an Alpha with kind eyes.Xu Weizhou, a Shu beta, just past 21 and incredibly angry, meets an Alpha who changes his life. It jump-starts his journey across all three countries of Shu, Wu and Wei, with a surprising amount of politics, for someone who isjusta singer.
Relationships: Huang Jingyu/Xu Weizhou
Series: Wei AU [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833172
Comments: 50
Kudos: 9





	1. Chongqing, Sichuan, SHU

**Author's Note:**

  * For [evocates](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evocates/gifts).



> I still like BONKERS IN LOVE but evocates has stopped me. I think they'd defenestrate me if i titled it thus. 
> 
> Congrats to myself for writing what is essentially a novel (like the rest of this series isn't mostly me and 100k of world-building. With porn.) Unlike the rest of this series thus far, this has a surprising lack of porn and 200% more worldbuilding, mostly because the main POV character of this particular story is A) not from Wei, B) is surprisingly involved with the politics, and C) thinks a hella lot. Where in #DoNotPost LYN is a very thoughtful character, most of the wordcount comes from _events_. An equally thoughtful character is ZYL in _his_ central fic, but in a sense he has a lot fewer events happening to him, specifically. 
> 
> Xu Weizhou, however, has a lot more things happening to him AND a hella lot of thinking going on - because this fucker analyses the _shit_ out of everything. 
> 
> Thanks to him, there's a lot more elucidation on what it means to be beta - technically the majority caste/gender of this ABO world - with all the gender and socioeconomic politics that it implies. There's also a hella lot more elaboration on what it means to be a Favourite in Wei, as well as the subtle differences of what it means to be an Idol and Celebrity and Entertainer in any of the Three Countries. Unlike most of the other main characters of the fic-series, Xu Weizhou is pointedly not Wei, and is _very_ aware of it, so you as a reader get rewarded with all that thinking that comes with it. 
> 
> Unlike the other fics in the series too - there is a lot LESS crack in this. There are some serious and rather harsh themes -- though I tried to handle them gently, but read the tags carefully and judge for yourself. 
> 
> This fic is a really _really_ long haul - i don't think it'll hit 100k (but never say never), but i've pretty much completed NaNoWriMo for 2021 just in January alone thanks to this fic. 
> 
> In terms of fandom, I'm not sure where to chuck this, because the main character is nowhere near super vocal, and I skimmed over Our Song, where I had first encountered him. The true main fandom of this fic's setting is actually Sanguo AU - an AU of the Three Kingdoms Era (not the same as the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, which is a _fanfic_ of the historical era) - with the politics of the three countries slowly (and subtly) showing through with the lens of gender/caste and sexuality. It also pretty much might as well be Original Fic, too. 
> 
> If you come here hoping for Yuncifang/Ayanga & ZYL hijinks or House on Cao Avenue Trolling… well, they do exist. They actually do show up in this fic, but very much _not_ the main focus. However much of the world-building for this universe _is_ in here, because XWZ is, at the moment, the _only_ character who spends so much time outlining the politics of it all.

The singer in the bar had just finished, and the lull from the speakers made the bar seem almost quiet in comparison. 

Quiet enough that Xu Weizhou could hear his own thoughts echo again. 

A bar singer who looked happy enough, _employed_ enough – and here he was, holding yet another polite "sorry we don't have a slot for someone with your qualifications" letter. 

Officially because he hadn't graduated yet, but… all his classmates were talking about their small offers here and there –just like how he had, a little more than half a year ago, had excitedly told his classmates about the _main_ role he had in an admittedly indie web production. 

Now unless he instigated it, his classmates didn't talk to him, sometimes didn’t even want to _look_ at him. And in the light of all the offers he'd had while he'd been filming suddenly going dry, them finding someone else to fill their roles, so very sorry, you were busy and we urgently needed someone, please come back next year – or just no longer responding, he was fairly sure he wasn't overthinking things to believe his _professors_ were refusing to meet his eyes. 

If he graduated without any _jobs_ , how was that a success? Six months ago, he had been one of the top students with the brightest future of his class. 

(After _Addicted_ was taken off the air, his professors had told him: Don't worry. Sometimes it was a good thing, because a series being censored meant that more attention was paid to it. The director and producers of the show had seemed to agree, because they had started releasing all of the behind-the-scene materials: rough cuts, scenes originally left on the floor of the editing room, his and Jingyu's personal interactions, their interactions with the rest of the cast...

In April, the new order came down: Xu Weizhou and Huang Jingyu were banned from ever appearing in the same frame again. There were even rumours that Huang Jingyu was close to being banned from ever stepping onto Shu's soil.

Xu Weizhou, at least, was still allowed to go anywhere he wished. He was, after all, a Shu citizen.

But.)

His phone pinged. 

He turned it over to check – a message from his guidance counsellor. 

It didn't take long for him to skim through it: the gist was essentially, _We would suggest you reconsider your major, perhaps specializing in something else like instrumental performance._

So, just stopping short of telling him to quit, because the university's _strength_ was in their acting majors; if he'd wanted to go wholly into musical instrumental performance he'd have gone for the Sichuan Conservatory of Music – he'd scored high enough on the gaokao to more than qualify. 

He'd considered the Conservatory, when he was holding his gaokao result slip in his hands. He'd learned music and dance since he was tiny, not yet started in primary school, and he was no expert, not really, not at the level of performing in the government funded orchestras. 

(Besides, what would the orchestra do with a guitarist? What would the conductor do with a musician who wanted to compose _rock_ music?)

He _could_ , his parents had said he could do whatever he'd wanted, but out of all the arts, _acting_ was a far more viable longer career, and he had been curious. 

His parents had always encouraged him to pursue whatever struck his interest; so he'd applied for the Sichuan Film and Television University instead.

And now… now he was facing his last _semester_ with the university's guidance counsellor all but telling him to restart his degree or quit, and no job prospects. 

No. Xu Weizhou shook his head. Let's be honest, he thought viciously at the blank black of his phone screen, the crowd's low level buzz of conversation around him rising up like a choking cloud. The _city_ had decided they didn't want him. 

He'd come in from Chengdu to Chongqing, having sent in dozens of applications to dozens of auditions during the tail end of last semester, and had only two callbacks for this inter-semester break. 

Both sets of auditioners had taken one look at his face when he had walked in, and he'd read recognition in the widening of their eyes even before he'd started. 

His face was marked with the definition of _poison_ in Shu, and not even Chongqing, infamous for the edgy, risque-ness of their hip hop artists, would touch him. 

His phone pinged again; Xu Weizhou was not masochist enough to turn it on to read yet another rejection in his inbox. 

Instead he looked up to catch the eye of the bartender, and ordered another drink. 

"Hey, you okay?" 

Xu Weizhou blinked and glanced towards the man at his right and – it was only because he was holding the bright red jacket the singer had been wearing that Xu Weizhou recognised him; the Alpha had taken off his shades, and without the jacket to emphasize a slouch, he looked like any normal Alpha he'd passed in and around Chengdu. 

He should be wary; he hadn't been unaware of the rumours – almost virulent – online. With the sudden disappearance of his more vocal fans, it had made the voices of those who hated that some Wei _man_ was topping _Shu_ louder. And with that volume, had come clamouring for the Xu Weizhou's character to be punished – 

And for _Xu Weizhou_ to be properly re-educated, as to his role as a man.

(He'd not wanted to tell his parents, but they had heard, somehow, all the same, and he had stood at the top of the stairs of his parents' house, listening to their conversation in the living room, soft and worried. "What if he got married? If he was married, they surely wouldn't say such things about —"

"Except my friends – I've asked – said they didn't have daughters, or friends with daughters, the right age – and I'm afraid if there were Alpha sons… Zhouzhou isn't the strongest, you know that."

"But what about that Huang Jingyu, he could…?"

"He's _Wei_. How would he even be able to live here? You’ve heard what Wei people are like, especially his generation?”

As if marriage would sanitize it and make everything okay – Xu Weizhou had seen enough of what the netizens thought he'd required – a proper Alpha's knot to make the world all right again, and he knew what it meant to be an Alpha's _wife_ , with the very strong likelihood of his parents not even getting to see him again, let alone their grandchildren. And all before he actually graduated.) 

But he was in public, he wasn't that drunk, and the Alpha singer standing there had soft, kind, concerned eyes, as the bartender put a glass of water and a wedge of lemon in it in front of him. A bar-singer wouldn't know him from the next beta who came in to get shitfaced. 

And besides, what could the Alpha do, drag him off and rape him in the bar's toilets right in the same place where the Alpha actually _worked_? Who would be so stupid? 

"I'm fine," Xu Weizhou said, and refused to let his voice slur. He could see the Alpha's gaze flick to the three other glasses in front of him, and shrugged. "They were here when I sat down. You sing well." 

He could see the Alpha deliberately choose to not continue with that question. "Thanks. Always liked singing." 

"Liked especially when you did that vocal fry there," Xu Weizhou said, and hummed the line – he wasn't sure he remembered the words, but he definitely remembered the tune and delivery, and besides, right now words didn't always make sense. 

Words hadn't saved them, him and … and _Addicted_ , because words had been less important than the fact that Xu Weizhou, a Shu citizen, had dared to portray the one who rolled over and, in a particular vicious post he couldn't erase from his mind, _writhed_ for it from the _Wei_ top. 

And had the _gall_ not to mind it, at all, in the rehearsals, in the behind-the-scenes, had to gall to be _friends_ with a fellow-actor. As if the fact that he'd _not_ protested more, hadn't been reluctant, had been _comfortable_ , meant he'd been _asking for it_ , and therefore had thrown Shu's face and reputation away, one touch, one smile, at a time. 

"You know music?" the Alpha said, eyes brightening, and he sat down; sitting down, their gazes were exactly level, and Xu Weizhou felt his mouth tug up in a smile. 

"Learned music since I could pick up a guitar," he said, and it wasn't bragging, because it was the truth, and it was easy enough to fall into a discussion about music and singing – and oh, it turned out this Alpha composed too.

A different genre than Xu Weizhou's – while Xu Weizhou composed mainly in rock, he listened to everything, because cadence and patterns were _fascinating_ , and rap had an intense rhythm that anyone could appreciate. 

If he found himself leaning in closer as the Alpha, Zhou Yan, demonstrated, it was mainly because the bar got noisier and he wanted to hear the actual _tones_ of the words, and nothing to do with his next drink.

If he talked about his inability to find a job, it was only because Zhou Yan would know and understand the trials of trying to find jobs in this industry, especially without the connections – Zhou Yan didn't have them since he hadn't gone to an Arts college, and, as Xu Weizhou laughed, voice thick with alcohol and choked on smoke, _he_ had lost them all, and no one in either big city would take him. 

If the mention of _sea_ , which _neither_ of them had ever seen, made him cry – well. The air was smoky, and his eyes were stinging, and the Alpha's hands were so gentle, and if he closed his eyes just a little, it was almost like he could fool himself into believing that the scent was Jingyu's, just obscured by smoke.

* * *

The sheets under his cheek felt familiar, the scent not. It took a while before he recognised it as himself, smoky from the bar and sour with stale sweat and alcohol, undeniably masculine and entirely his own. 

He shifted onto his side, and when he lifted his face, he could see his phone and wallet placed at eye-level on the small bedside table of what he realised was a hotel room, and a piece of paper folded neatly on them. 

There was no scent of anyone else – the other side of the bed completely flat as if no one else had touched it, and if there had been anyone in the room, it would have had to be hours ago. 

He sat up, wincing at the horrible taste in his mouth and the pounding behind his eyes, and pawed at the piece of paper. 

_I listened to the songs you had online. You're pretty good! Go to Shanghai. Tell him GAI sent you. Sometimes even Chongqing is very small; don't give up!_

And underneath, in blocky print, a name, and a phone number. 

Shanghai.

He'd never thought of going outside of Shu; it hadn't crossed his mind. Wei was definitely not an option, not when they had cancelled the Happy Camp episode he and Huang Jingyu had been on, putting lie to Huang Jingyu's far too optimistic declaration that Wei would be safe for them, would support them both.

Of the three nations, Wei was the most conservative — it had not surprised him at all that Wei too had cancelled _Addicted_ because Shu demanded it. 

But Wu had put up a bit of a protest – only following the ban a week later. Wu imported 'shounen ai' anime from Japan, had a huge expatriate population, especially from the Western countries that were all about human rights. 

Shu technically was democratic – Wu held public elections.

Xu Weizhou brushed his finger over the line of numbers, before keying them into his phone. 

Why not? He had nothing more to lose at this point.

* * *

Xu Weizhou squinted at the bright lights of the skyline – from here he could see across the Bund, and if he had Superman's X-ray vision, he'd be able to see through the taller glitzy buildings that lit up the waterfront to the smaller building where his apartment was. 

Out in a new hotel room again, and he thought, this time, maybe, it'd almost be enough to quell the restlessness that was gnawing in his blood. But it had quieted only for a day; now he was itching to return to his own apartment, which was filled with the soft-toys his fans had given him, his multitude of guitars and keyboards, the only company in his too-large solitary apartment, the proof that Wu, at least, didn't hate him. 

He hadn't brought his keyboard with him this time, just his favourite guitar, but now he was thinking that the song was too thin with just a guitar. 

Two voices? A piano accompaniment? 

He had the lyrics already, and knew what effect the studio wanted from him, but… 

Xu Weizhou pushed away from the balcony to fling himself back into the room, dropping face down onto the bed. 

He'd finish the song, and it'd be the last for his album, and the last for this month. 

And then a concert next week; he had to think up what costumes he wanted to have, figure out the performances and effects he wanted. 

His mother would chide him for working too hard – he'd performed just last month, three sets with a group his agent had set up for him, and in between he'd been recording the other songs of his album – he had barely any time to call home, just the occasional messages to let his mother know he was still alive and eating. 

It _was_ back-to-back work; when he had been eighteen and putting his name to the Film and Television University, he hadn't quite thought that this would be what it would be like, recording to performing and then recording again, dropping singles on his Weibo while trying to turn feelings in his head into lyrics. Sometimes it felt like he couldn't quite breathe, like he was on just a bit too much coffee, that the air was a little too thin. 

But that was still better than the grey, dim days when he'd been stuck in his room, unable to leave his parents' house, and obsessively scrolling through his inbox full of rejection and silence. 

His phone buzzed. 

Without lifting his face from the bed, he fumbled for his phone out of his pocket, and then managed to stare at the voice-message his mother had sent him. 

"Zhouzhou ah." His mother's voice was always rendered a little thin with his phone's speaker, but he could hear her concern all the same. "I know you said you're busy so I'm just leaving you a message but… when can you take a break?" 

A break. 

He had no _time_ for a break. 

Xu Weizhou rolled over onto his back, and took a deep breath. What could he tell her? He couldn't take a break, and definitely had no time to date, no matter how much his parents tried to set him up when he returned home those brief, brief times he found himself at loose ends for a week at a stretch. His parents had given up on trying to find him suitable girls, especially when he'd told them that all the girls he met in Shanghai were much prettier than anyone they'd find in Chengdu – or even Chongqing. 

His mother's _face_ had been … he didn't know the word for it, the way the corners of her eyes had tightened; but the thought of Shu girls made his chest seize. 

"Your father knows some friends who have Alpha sons," she'd said, and Xu Weizhou had laughed, laughed till his voice cracked and when he'd managed to have the air to speak, the tears in his eyes from laughter had blurred his mother's face on his screen. 

"I meet plenty of Alphas here in Shanghai," he'd said, and hung up before she could say more. 

His phone trilled – a message on WeChat. 

He shouldn't open it, he knew who it would be from, but like prodding a hole in his jaw, the ache of a missing tooth as addictive as it was painful, he couldn't stop himself from opening the app. 

_Saw your latest performance! Your dancing is as good as ever!_

He could feel the smile on his face, even as his heart leapt into his throat. 

Yet another message in a long line of unanswered messages; Huang Jingyu had not stopped sending him messages, specifically those after each of whatever he'd done – a performance, a concert, an album. 

(How many times had he stared at the numbers of his album sales, and wondered which of those had been Huang Jingyu? How many times had he stared at the downloads of his singles and wondered how many of those clicks had been Huang Jingyu's?) 

And Xu Weizhou had not answered. 

"Why can't you stop," he said, to his phone, to the empty hotel room, to Huang Jingyu. "Why do you keep _remembering_?"

It had been ...months. Years. Since _Addicted_ had been banned, since that horrible, fateful April that he had been yanked away from Huang Jingyu on stage. 

His mother had noted, right at the end of 2016, how well Huang Jingyu was doing, in Beijing, look, Zhouzhou, look at his shows. 

But he had refused to look, even as he was relieved that Jingyu's career wasn't impacted. Just his own, just him. Just him with every acting agency and every acting studio dropping his name-card like it was poison in the trash, even when just weeks, months, ago they had been happy to praise his genuine and naturalistic acting, and now they acted like he was a ghost. 

(It would have been easy to fix it, someone said, someone who had been once a friend, a potential agent. Disavow _Addicted_ , condemn Huang Jingyu, swear to only act in proper, moral and ethical shows.

But how could he? He'd met Huang Jingyu on _Addicted_. They'd poured their heart and souls into the show, low-budget as it was. He'd met _Huang Jingyu_. 

And no matter how much his 'friends' told him to disavow it all, condemn it all, show regret and penitence, no matter how much his parents asked if it was possible he could just say it, just say whatever was necessary, because bowing one's head sometimes was necessary to get through life, it didn't mean it was forever — 

He couldn't regret meeting Huang Jingyu. Silly, emotional, sweet and kind Huang Jingyu.) 

If he had suffered, having had to work extra hard in his last semester to pass and graduate on time, (despite his professors refusing to have time for him, despite his classmates barely putting in the effort for their final projects), having to leave Shu and his parents to find _work_ in Shanghai, alone for the first time in another country, how could he do the same to Huang Jingyu? 

It was easy to see why Huang Jingyu still was "doing fine"; Huang Jingyu had played the instigator, the top, the _penetrator_ , in _Addicted_. The _man_. He wasn't _gay_. Therefore Wei would forgive him that, give him those movies and shows he could go on to record, because he was a natural even without the degree that Xu Weizhou had finally managed to achieve. 

If Xu Weizhou responded, went back to him, went to _Wei_ , wouldn't that drag him down? Wouldn't that ruin Huang Jingyu's career? 

He couldn't do that to Huang Jingyu. 

Wei had always been conservative, he didn't give a shit about that country, other than that Huang Jingyu loved it, that he'd been born there. Wei had made no promises, and broken no word to him; they had, at least, clearly taken care of Huang Jingyu, probably by ignoring his acting in _Addicted_.

But Shu had thrown Xu Weizhou away – even though he'd done everything properly, gone to school, scored good grades, got into the best acting university in Sichuan and graduated. All for naught, because the degree mouldered in a corner of his Shanghai flat, useless and ignored, the thought of touching it made him want to throw up.

"Give up," Xu Weizhou said to his phone, but the messages were still there, and all he had to do was erase them, unfriend him on WeChat, and block his username. 

If he was a better person, a _stronger_ person, he'd block Huang Jingyu and let him move on. 

(Find a girl that Wei would approve of, find someone else, anyone else, and settle into his proper and successful career.) 

But Xu Weizhou was selfish enough to roll over, curling his hands over the phone screen, eyes drinking in each tiny word in those unanswered messages. 

"Why wouldn't you just give up," Xu Weizhou whispered, swallowing hard, and it took all his effort to turn off the screen. 

Why _wouldn't_ you just give up. 

How much could your country hate you, if it meant that you had to force the one you cared for to give up? 

How much could you hate your _Country_ in return? 

"Hate," Xu Weizhou said, to the air, and then sat up, reaching for pen and paper. 

Electric guitar, he thought, and not a piano but a _scream_. That was what the song needed. It wasn't exactly what his studio wanted from the song, but they'd never refused what he'd produced, because his Wu fans, now grown in numbers from those still willing to hear him sing even when he'd gotten banned from acting, were substantial enough, and his records were numerous and profitable enough that his anger meant he was _edgy_ rather than rebellious. 

Maybe, he thought, the whole album needed more electric sound, to make it cohesive; that, he could do, get it overlaid in post-production. 

So the hotel room wasn't a wasted expenditure after all – he'd finish the song tonight, and tomorrow he would record it and he'd just go home. 

Maybe that one day's worth of changed scenery was enough, as long as he remembered how much he refused to owe Shu anything.

* * *

Xu Weizhou thought of Zhou Yan – _GAI_ – often. Mentioned him to his mother often enough she started making hopeful noises about inviting this nice Alpha back to meet them. 

But Xu Weizhou hadn't seen Zhou Yan since that time in the bar, had spoken about him to no one else besides that beta who had picked up the phone almost two years ago, and had offered him a job interview. 

(No promises, but he'd give Xu Weizhou a chance, just on GAI's say so, on GAI's word, and it wasn't even the thing about an Alpha's word being more trustworthy than a beta's, but because it was _GAI_. 

It had been enough; that one chance to see someone who would take him without dismissing him over the ghost hanging over his shoulder. It had been just for an Idol position, but he came with a small ready-made fanbase, and in _Wu_ , controversy was _edgy_ , and he had, according to the interviewer, a pretty enough face, and a good enough voice.) 

Thinking of GAI wasn't just because he liked the Alpha – one conversation really didn't mean much. Except Xu Weizhou was observant enough, had sharp enough hearing, to notice that there were plenty more who knew GAI in Wu, without him having to bring the man up. 

(How many of them had he picked up, crying drunk in bars all over Sichuan, and sent them over to Wu?) 

But thinking of GAI, noticing his diffused and thin network threading into Wu, was better than thinking of that long string of unanswered messages in his phone, too warm to delete, too painful to re-read in the harsh bright of summer daylight. 

He owed GAI. He owed the Alpha a lot – he had started out as an idol, but he'd managed to make the transition into a singer-composer, and for more than a year now he had given concerts as a _solo_ artist, earning enough that he could pay for his parents to come and visit him, stay at a hotel in _Shanghai_ , distracting them from the fact that he had no one else in his life with the glitz and glamour of crowded, busy Shanghai, the exotic international flavour of Expo Park, and all the attractions of the busiest city in China.

That first interviewer, that agent, who had taken a chance on him, had said, _GAI has a good eye_. 

Paying GAI tribute by wearing a red jacket once every concert series, at least one set every performance, wasn't very much was it? 

He would, should, go back to Shu, try to find that Alpha, to thank him.

But the last time he'd stepped foot in Shu, his own hometown, he'd thought he'd felt eyes on him. 

He didn't delve into the social media commentary pit about himself, but even amongst his fangroup, there would pop up the occasional discussion topic on the somewhat ugly comments on _his_ character, as extrapolated from his songs. 

In the entire time he was in Wu, signed to an Wu company, it had been easy to feed his own resentment and anger, because his studio liked the songs that he produced with that bite. He wasn't sorry, and had seen – still saw – no reason for his own country to yank away all support from him, banning him, specifically, from seeing one man in the entire world, using him to represent all those in his position, with his desires, in the entirety of Shu, and throwing the weight of their judgement on his shoulders. 

(The edict had been "they cannot be on the same screen together." It didn't have to be worded precisely for him – and all of Shu – to know what it meant, what was the significance of it all. Just one line, but Xu Weizhou hadn't scored so high in his gaokao for his brain not to work.) 

There was something ugly and dark brewing in Shu, around him, and while his agency had gotten local security for when he went to Chengdu, he couldn't shake the thought that maybe, maybe, some of those security had given him side-way looks that he hadn't felt… 

He hadn't been sure that he could trust all of them to handle the guns on their hips, that was the thing, whether their aim would be in his defense. 

(Or whether it would be on _purpose._

Unlike in Wu, _Shu's_ police went around armed, their military roots very close to the surface, and Xu Weizhou had never been comfortable around _guns_.) 

So no, he didn't think he would be able to walk around and check every bar for GAI on his own. 

But… 

His agent had gotten him in contact with the producer of one of the upcoming huge _huge_ shopping festivals that Wu was so fond of. Valentine's Day was coming up, and they'd asked Xu Weizhou to perform. 

Dozens of artistes would be performing on one of Wu's main tv stations. There was always space for one more – maybe the producer wouldn't mind if Xu Weizhou suggested one more Shu artiste. 

So many of Wu's industry's insiders had heard of GAI. One of them definitely would know how to get hold of him.

* * *

As soon as GAI walked in, Xu Weizhou noticed the ring. 

It wasn't very blatant or ostentatious but… while it was common enough in Shu, Wu adopted and embraced many of the traditions from the West, and Xu Weizhou had gotten into the habit of taking a glance at Alphas' hands. 

(just in case. Just…) 

He straightened as GAI sat down in front of him. 

"Are you safe?" he blurted, before GAI could open his mouth, before he could even say whatever he'd rehearsed earlier. 

"Dude," GAI said, sitting down with his eyebrows up near his hairline, "do you actually _say_ that out loud?" 

Because Shu was… _Shu_ and there was edgy in hip hop but it wasn't exactly all talk, was the thing. 

And even his fans were starting to make comments along the lines of "oh no, don't come to Shu, we'll go to Shanghai! See the sights, catch a concert! Shouldn't make Zhou Di travel!" on his Weibo. Those sounded almost like jokes, and Xu Weizhou's agency was treating it as such.

But his picking up the nickname _Zhou Di_ , Di for _emperor_ , was rather telling. A celebrity's behaviour was reflected in their fans, and Xu Weizhou had always been good with words, and by certain standards, hardly _subtle_. He was, to his fans, someone who had charged into the world on his own, with no backing and no safety, and his words now had what little _weight_ a celebrity's could have.

And sometimes… he was getting the idea that even words with no intention weren't always treated with generosity or leniency, not in Shu. 

(Not anymore.)

"Yes of course," Xu Weizhou said, passing over the small touch-screen menu to GAI. "why wouldn't I?" his smile could be allowed to twist up a little bitterly. "This is _Wu_." 

What would Shu do anyway, send Hong Kong gangsters up to shoot him? As much as the police might be omnipresent in Shu, all over Chengdu and Chongqing, there was very little that they could offer to pay the triads in _Shanghai_ , who had far more money and flesh to deal with. International dollars talked, baby, what could the Shu government offer them, mountain goats and yaks? 

Besides, what he said _here_ was hardly going to reach the ears of the Shu administration. If it had, that would have reached long ago, and they would have done something about that ban. 

Issued another ban, probably. But his passport still allowed him to walk into Shu ground, if he wanted, since his agent still booked him tickets to Chongqing (which he was starting to turn down, despite that hangdog expression of his agent. But his _agency_ didn't mind, noticing how his mainland performances being exclusive to Wu resulted in sold out concert halls, his singles and EPs weren't at ridiculous numbers but the sales were ticking along very well, considering they did minimal promotion of _him_. 

His songs did it for him. He had, soon after he'd gone to Shanghai, actually managed to hold a concert as a _solo artist_ in South Korea. The first from the mainland. 

China might have the numbers, but the international market wasn't insignificant either, and Xu Weizhou wasn't exactly restricted. 

(Like his fans had said – he didn't need to go to them; they'd come to _him_. What was Shu going to do about it, cancel his passport?) 

GAI studied him, eyes narrowing for a moment, as Xu Weizhou sipped his latte. 

"How are you not dead?" he said at last. 

"Order whatever you like," Xu Weizhou said, helpfully. "My treat." 

He watched GAI flick through the menu, noting the subdued flash of gold on his left fourth finger. Married. He'd listened to some of GAI's raps, and the lyrics. 

Ah, the lyrics. Worrisome. Unlike Xu Weizhou's, which was angry but personal, Zhou Yan's lyrics carefully left blanks around social _structures_. And what they _did_ say raised more questions than not. 

_Addicted_ had said nothing that hadn't been shown in past television history, just teenagers falling in love, trying to hide it from their parents, but the fact that it was explicitly about eighteen-year-olds in contemporary _Chengdu_ , rather than the three steps back and side-ways historical past of wuxia, where faux history could hide anything, where old-fashioned phrases hid homoeroticism and subsumed it into the socially acceptable umbrella of _brotherhood_. 

They hadn't even said anything particularly critical of _anything_ , not in the show itself where the characters had only cared about their personal parental issues, nor had Xu Weizhou or Huang Jingyu said anything that could be construed as _anything_ political in their behind-the-scenes or fan-interviews and fan-meets. 

The fact that _Addicted_ was banned, and then only two months later Xu Weizhou and Huang Jingyu had been banned from seeing each other again said that it didn't matter how much the administration claimed they'd not give a shit who was fucking who in the privacy of the bedroom. 

Dare to hold hands on camera, and Xu Weizhou was never acting on the small screen again. 

Of course he was angry. It hadn't been anything Xu Weizhou or Huang Jingyu had done, except to take Shu's administration at their word, only to find out that Shu would happily destroy one of their own just because. 

But GAI's lyrics were something else altogether. 

Xu Weizhou was nobody – a rich little boy who had had everything he could want, a voice with no particular influence. His fans were not about to riot on his behalf, and Wu churned out idols and singers who said far more explicit things from pretty painted lips everyday. 

GAI, on the other hand, knew _several_ people even in Wu's entertainment industry. He had won a rap competition in _Shu_ just last year. His lyrics straddled the line of _edgy_ , but everyone knew how readily that line could shift, especially when a single word could be construed as _critical_. 

Xu Weizhou put his cup down in its saucer. "It's Shanghai," he said, glancing out to the glitzy streets outside. 

A pretty woman walked by in thigh high boots, the huge plane-glass wall silencing the sharp click of her heels, the European cut of her camel-coloured overcoat coyly flirting at the shape of her calves. 

Xu Weizhou looked back at GAI, who was watching him, rather than the menu. 

"I can say whatever I want, in Shanghai." 

"Your agen-" 

"My agency loves it," Xu Weizhou said. "It's edgy. It sells well." As far as Wu was concerned, he was just another pretty face with an angry voice using rock as a vehicle to scream about teenage rebellion, and it translated into cold hard cash. 

Xu Weizhou didn't mind that. Cash for his voice, money for his words, at least his parents didn't have to worry that he would be starving in the streets after they were gone. 

He nudged his teaspoon – the stainless steel clinked against the white ceramic, gritty undissolved sugar grains grating a little between them both. 

Trapped in the world's lightest millstone. 

"It means they've stopped asking me to trade for favours," he said, this time letting his voice go soft and distant, and Zhou Yan's gaze snapped to him, his throat. 

Xu Weizhou smiled, and tipped his head a little. His pierced but bare ears would tell the story to anyone in Wu's industry – he was unmarked, unclaimed, and definitely not looking. Collars were fun and part of the costume in performance, but certain studs in the left ear of a male beta, particularly one young as Xu Weizhou, would say something else. 

Even if it would have been easy enough to accept a director or producer's stud, give them time and… company in exchange for favour and exposure. Xu Weizhou had instead pierced his ears, and left them blank, only wearing earrings for his performances, and removing them with his make-up as soon as he walked off stage. His voice alone wasn't enough for the highest reaches of Wu's industry, but he had no intention of trying that far. 

(His fans calling him an Emperor was… not entirely false – an Emperor could not easily owe favours to all and sundry, relying on others to climb to power, and still call themselves a ruler.) 

GAI blinked. He didn't know. 

That was fine. He was Shu, he'd learn it fast enough, if he chose to stay. 

Unlike Xu Weizhou, whose voice and words were just that bit of teenage rebellion that sold well, especially overseas, GAI's talent with cadence and content would take him where it wasn't necessary to buy favours with flesh. 

GAI puzzled over his words, then obviously filed it away. 

"I'm going to move away from hip-hop from next year onwards," he said, the glow of red valentine lights from outside blinking briefly across GAI's face. 

For a moment it threw the lines at the corners of Zhou Yan's eyes into stark relief. 

How old was Zhou Yan? In his early thirties. People in Wu didn't marry so early, and most of Xu Weizhou's classmates that he'd… lost contact with, weren't likely to marry that early either. 

Zhou Yan hadn't been married when Xu Weizhou had met him in 2016, or at least, he hadn't been wearing a ring. 

Now he was, proclaiming his Achilles heel to all to see, and considering his rap lyrics… 

"You could find an agent here," Xu Weizhou said. "My agent knows of you, actually. He'd know someone who can represent someone of your genre." 

Zhou Yan smiled at him, that soft edge of that kind Alpha he'd met in the bar those years ago. "You getting me the invitation here is more than enough. Zhou'er." 

"And you're well-known in Shu for your rap," Xu Weizhou said, still tipping his teaspoon back and forth.

The sugar was slowly grinding with tiny tiny crunches against the steel. 

_I owe you,_ he didn't say, because the lights outside were white and red, almost garish against the night sky. 

In Shanghai, there were no stars but the neon streetlights and the glitter of celebrities' smiles. 

Everything was polished to a bright shine here, all sleek chrome, all blinding sparkle, that one rapper's words, even if turned into pop music, would be hidden amongst the glamour that walked along the Bund. 

China's gaze might be turned to Shanghai, but so too was the rest of the world's, and even if China sometimes felt so big, the world outside was bigger; against such a backdrop, one kind Alpha could disappear against the noise; he and his wife would be safe. 

Zhou Yan made a soft, thoughtful noise. 

"I'll let my agent know," Xu Weizhou said. "He'll get in touch with you, alright?" 

"You be careful," Zhou Yan said. 

"I'm safe enough," Xu Weizhou said. "It's not like I have anyone relying on me." 

He took a deep breath, and shifted, folding one leg over the other. "If you or sao-zi need anything, you have my number," he said.

* * *

In the middle of 2017, Wei announced that they were making a new web series. Xu Weizhou only heard of its existence because the producer and writer of _Addicted_ still occasionally dropped him messages on his WeChat, though he rarely responded other than to wish her a happy new year. 

(With the cancellation of _Addicted_ , and banning of he and Huang Jingyu from ever appearing on the same frame together, any hopes for a sequel had fallen through. While he had been sorely tempted to erase her username, she had been the only director who still kept up friendly contact, though for the rest of 2016 she too had not been able to produce or finance anything approaching television. Both of them were poisonous to each other, in the industry.) 

_Guardian_ was a student production, big budget for _students_ , but absolutely laughable in production values – though it would be unfair to compare it to _Addicted_ , since _Addicted_ had been set in modern Chengdu, and there had been no need to pretend a different technology or even CGI in magic. 

It had been based off some BL novel, which only served to predispose Xu Weizhou to detest it; and then in June 2018, when it first started airing, he could only laugh bitterly when he realised that they'd removed all traces of the romance between the two beta male leads — they had clearly learned from _Addicted_ 's fate. Even so, Shu tried to censor it, though even his Shu fans had no clue why that would need censoring, when nothing was even happening on screen. 

_Guardian_ was just the visible beginning of a wave of BL-adapted novels, though. _Addicted_ had paved the way, showing that there was an audience who craved those kinds of stories, simply because it was just more interesting than the typical beta hero and heroine in whatever setting. That BL novels had something that was worthy, somehow. 

The start of a trend – he might have been tempted to ignore it, until June 2019, when _Untamed_ aired. 

And then it was _everywhere_ , because it had been Shu-produced, an adaptation of a smutty BL-novel, and … 

Where he could forgive _Guardian_ for its existence, since he could forgive students' attempts at finding something new to say in the pursuit of their studies, _Untamed_ he could not. 

It was everything that _Addicted_ wasn't: in setting, in production values, in _budget_ , and they could afford to pay for _idols_ to act in it … 

And maybe he was masochistic enough to watch some of it, until he couldn't. 

Because where in _Guardian_ they'd cut all traces of the romance, leaving only a strong sense of brotherhood – _Untamed_ was _edgy_ with the 'are they, are they not?' sense of tension threading through a sequence of xianxia cliches. 

And even then, he could have forgiven it, because not everyone was a good scriptwriter, there were thousands of terrible xianxia and wuxia out there— there was a reason that people kept adapting and re-adapting Louis Cha's novels. 

If not for the fact that he could see traces of his character _Bai Luoyin_ in _Wei Wuxian_ , except where Bai Luoyin had been lambasted for being the uke, the _bottom_ , Wei Wuxian was the sympathetic hero who did terrible things because he had no other choice, he'd been forced by circumstances. Everything Wei Wuxian did could be forgiven. 

And Wei Wuxian was played by a Shu actor. He was suddenly _beloved_ and _adored_ , his face was everywhere in the malls and online ads. Even in Shu, _especially_ in Shu

And that— Xu Weizhou knew it was unfair, vastly, and horrendously unfair to hate the man, but what was it that Xiao Zhan had, that he hadn't? Why was it that they had done the exact same thing, the same kind of role, and Xu Weizhou had lost _everything_ in Shu, and Xiao Zhan was the up and coming, his career suddenly blooming with potential the way that once, Xu Weizhou had. 

Xu Weizhou had been punished, rejected and thrown away by his own country, for doing the same thing that beautiful, fresh-faced Xiao Zhan later did— _Untamed_ enjoyed the success and fame and glory for breaking 'new ground'... ground that _Addicted_ had been buried in. 

If he threw himself further into singing and performance, so he didn't have to watch anything, online or on tv, was it really a surprise?

* * *

It was late 2019, but Xu Weizhou couldn't help but feel like the world had stood still in 2018, the first day of the Lunar New Year. For weeks before, the entirety of January, giant posters had been plastered all over every flat surface possible, splashed across building sized monitors, advertising the largest Wei-Wu movie of the year. 

Xu Weizhou hadn't known modern history all that well, but with _Operation Red Sea_ on everyone's lips and on everyone's minds, it would be stupid not to go look it up.

The first time he'd seen one of those posters, he'd nearly walked into a wall – because there, with equal prominence to all the other older actors, had been Huang Jingyu's name and face.

When he had gone to look it up, Baidu proudly proclaimed the sheer man hours, the historical accuracy, and the funding. 

Specifically, a large portion had been bankrolled by _Wei_ government money. 

He ignored the little whiners complaining about Wei propaganda, and just stared out his window. Across his apartment, three blocks away, had been one of those giant posters, and Huang Jingyu's face, serious, intent, streaked with camo and soot, was staring through a sniper's scope. 

Bankrolled by Wei's government. Money meant support, meant approval – his parents were completely right, Huang Jingyu was doing well. 

His government _loved_ him, to give him that. 

Huang Jingyu had had no acting experience prior to _Addicted_ , now he was one of the main actors in Wei's flagship show for the Lunar New Year.

His country loved him – forgiven him the misdoing of daring to act in a BL show, and was showing it by plastering his face across two different countries – probably even Shu. 

(Some of his Shu fans had mentioned the posters in Shu, posted a phone-cam shot of one of them, and Xu Weizhou had laughed and laughed when he realised that Huang Jingyu's face had been on the posters but not his _name_. As a result, he was pretty sure, every damn person in Shu now knew Huang Jingyu's name and face, it overwriting their memory of Huang Jingyu's association with a small indie-web production.) 

Now in 2019, he flicked through the five high-res images of the posters of _Operation Red Sea_ he kept in a folder on his phone, and wondered whether Huang Jingyu had had disavowed him and _Addicted_ , to buy such approval from his country and government. 

Huang Jingyu had said, had told him, the last time they still could touch before Huang Jingyu had been taken back to Wei, to Beijing, _"It was our fault, we had been too outrageous."_

He'd used _fang si_ : unlawful, impudent, _outrageous_ , and the last words Xu Weizhou had said, _yelled_ had been that Huang Jingyu was wrong, they had done nothing wrong, there was nothing _wrong_ with what they had done, there was nothing unlawful or illegal or anti-social in daring to be comfortable with each other, to want to love each other. 

The first month while he watched his contacts disappear, he thought he might be angry at Huang Jingyu, for suggesting that they be ashamed of this, especially when the Happy Camp episode was cancelled. 

The only way that they could be together in Wei would thus be in shame and shadows, and Xu Weizhou had been brought up knowing everything he did he had to be able to be proud of. He might not say _everything_ he meant, but nothing he had done he was ashamed of, and he was not ashamed of _Addicted_ , nor of him and Huang Jingyu. 

But the messages that Huang Jingyu had sent him, even until now, in 2019, were still the same. 

_Congratulations._

_I'm waiting for you in Beijing_. 

And whatever Huang Jingyu was, he was blunt and straightforward, and couldn't hide anything to save his life. And Xu Weizhou had been in Shanghai long enough to bring his parents over, and knew very well how to read people. Huang Jingyu was an actor now, but had no duplicitousness in him – which meant that while he might have disavowed _Addicted_ to win such approbation from Wei, he wouldn't have disavowed _Xu Weizhou_. 

But now he was years from that first dark month of emotional roiling; his presence would pull down Huang Jingyu's rising star, dragging him down with the edgy controversy that still dogged Xu Weizhou's reputation and career. 

There was no unofficial ban to Shu for him, but his parents had seemed perfectly happy to sell their property in Chengdu and move to Shanghai with him, with nearly no reservations whatsoever, saying it'd be much easier for their son to visit them now instead of having to arrange security and flights to go to Chengdu. 

When one's own country didn't feel safe, how could he tar someone else with his presence? 

Xu Weizhou resolutely thumbed out of those poster-images, and went to his inbox, and blinked a little. 

A message from his agent, forwarding an invitation to a new variety show. 

_Our Song: Singing with Legends_ was inviting new singers to pair up in a blind audition with singing legends that included _Fei Yuqin_. 

_You could be free in November,_ his agent's message coaxed, _Why not try for it? You'll set the tone for it, if it becomes successful!_

Why not, he thought, why not try for this? 

Three months might be a bit long but it was filming in Shanghai anyway, so it wasn't like his parents would be terribly worried about him overworking. 

He typed, _Alright, clear my schedule for it._

If he could hopefully meet Fei Yuqin, one of his idols, it wouldn't even be a waste of time.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Addicted_ ,《上瘾》is a web-series filmed and broadcast in 2016, based on a BL novel. The series is actually much sweeter than the plot summary implies. 
> 
> Xu Weizhou was 21 when it was first 'aired' online. 
> 
> Again, we've moved people as necessary for the narrative: Xu Weizhou is in this AU born and raised in Chengdu, Sichuan, capital city of Shu, and only later moves to Shanghai, capital city of Wu, to work at the end of 2016. As such, _Addicted_ is filmed in Chengdu in this AU, not Beijing
> 
> * * *
> 
> This is evocates' fault, they keep enabling me. All i wanted was the very first scene of XWZ meeting GAI, because it was a bittersweet story of the beginning of XWZ's tragedy, but evocates insisted I continue. 
> 
> Now it's a 70k monster and going. 
> 
> This is all evocates' fault. 你要负责任！


	2. Our Song, Shanghai, WU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please keep in mind that I keep this in tight limited third person POV for all sections, which implies not just limited knowledge, but a good chance of an unreliable narrator with all the biases implied.

Zhou Shen was famous in his own way amongst the singers of Wu. He'd sung one of the theme songs for a big film in 2016; Xu Weizhou had only emerged from the shadows of _Addicted_ , but even he had heard of him, the little Wu omega whose parents didn't approve of his decision to sing, and earned his fame and reputation with the uniqueness of his voice. 

After the SuperVocal show in 2018, that little omega had disappeared from Wu's singing circles for months, and Xu Weizhou had been rather surprised to see him in the room for the mentees before their blind-singing duets. 

He supposed he should have been more concerned, maybe, or more attentive to the Zhou Shen's presence (had the producers arranged it that way, too, so he'd be 'paired' with the acceptable Wu omega? Was it calculated specifically for him?) but Liu Yuning had been in the room first, and had _spoken_ first, and. 

It didn't matter that the taller man was a soft-spoken omega. 

He'd opened his mouth and all Xu Weizhou could hear was _Huang Jingyu_. 

Dongbei, the Wei omega was from _Dongbei_ , and he might be mistaken, since he hadn't met that many people from Dongbei in the circles he ran in but. 

He had to resist asking Liu Yuning if he was from _Dandong_. 

If he was from Dandong, did he know Huang Jingyu? 

~~How was he, was he doing well, was he finally dating someone else now?~~

A stupid question: how small could Dandong be, that everyone knew each other? 

So he didn't say anything, kept everything about singing, and was thus surprised when the two omegas ended up becoming friends.

Or maybe not surprised – Zhou Shen had the reputation of being cute, and Liu Yuning was Dongbei ~~not Dandong, couldn't be Dandong, it was his own wishful thinking~~ ; weren't those from Dongbei straightforward and blunt? Again, nothing within him that was false – if he wanted to make it in Shanghai, he would not make it very far, because Liu Yuning was nothing like the Wu omegas that Xu Weizhou had met. 

But take cute and add straightforward bluntness – the announcement when they revealed Zhou Shen's name ("born in Wu, chose to be Wei") to the audience and his matched up mentor suddenly explained it. Basically two _Wei_ omegas would befriend each other, because they wouldn't get along with _Wu_. 

(There were rumours here and there, that it was rare indeed to see a Wei omega outside of Wei, certainly not if they were unmarried, because Wei hoarded their omegas close behind screens, unlike the Wu omegas who were stronger and thus needed no such protection.) 

For a while, Xu Weizhou was occupied with the fact that he and Fei Yuqin – _Fei Yuqin!_ – had matched; the opportunity to sing duets with him had him in the clouds for a time. Begging Fei Yuqin to allow him to call him _Shifu_ made Xu Weizhou the happiest he could remember in recent times. 

So if he didn't quite notice Zhou Shen flirting with his mentor Hacken Lee – well, it had to be for the stage. Idols and celebrities did that, sometimes (a lot). 

Besides, the Wei _Alpha_ on the other team B? 

Stern, tall and forbidding Ayanga (from further north than Xu Weizhou could ever envision himself going), was clearly Zhou Shen's mate, even if he hadn't marked Zhou Shen at all. 

Obviously Ayanga was the reason why Zhou Shen had disappeared from Wu and changed his citizenship – Zhou Shen had met his mate on SuperVocal, so of course he'd followed Ayanga back to Wei. 

When he noticed Zhou Shen's … flirting with Hacken Lee followed them off the stage and into the hotel they'd all been booked at, though, he had to speak up.

"Zhou Shen-laoshi," he'd started, "you know—" 

"Oh!" Zhou Shen said, "you don't have to call me that! It's so weird, I'm not a laoshi to anyone—" 

"It's a title to signify the respect we have of your accomplishment and experience," Xu Weizhou said, and while Zhou Shen was very much shorter than himself, Zhou Shen was _still_ older, more experienced in the industry even if he had basically disappeared for much of 2019. "And as such, surely for… Ayanga-laoshi—" 

"Gazi-ge? Why would—" 

The door in front of them opened, and Xu Weizhou realised with some mild horror he'd forgotten to keep track of where they were going. He'd avoided Ayanga's side of the hotel – the _team B_ hall of the hotel, because _Xiao Zhan_ was on the show. Xu Weizhou knew himself well enough to know he wouldn't be able to be civil to Xiao Zhan, and it wasn't fair to the man who had done nothing except play a role that Shu's fickle audience suddenly loved. 

Xiao Zhan walked past them, giving them a smile – a very vacant, picture perfect smile and even Zhou Shen twitched. 

(it was a very familiar smile, the kind of smile that Xu Weizhou had seen on half a dozen idols and starlets, groomed and trained to be photogenic at all angles and all times.) 

Zhou Shen bit his lip. "I wish he wouldn't smile like that, cause it's kinda creepy-" 

"Let's _not_ talk about him," Xu Weizhou said – not shouted, not snapped, just _said_ , and nearly smashed his shoulder against the corner. 

"Zhouzhou? Are you okay?—" 

Before Xu Weizhou could do more than flail and limp forward, another door just a little further down opened. 

Ayanga stepped out of his hotel room door. "Shenshen?" 

"Gazi-ge! We were just coming to get you to go have dinner!" 

The Alpha's gaze flicked between them both. "I'm not very hungry, Shenshen," he said, "you and… Xiaozhou can go on first?" 

"It's already the last half hour for the dinner," Zhou Shen argued, "Right, Zhouzhou? We should all go now – Long-ge would be upset if you didn't eat." 

Ayanga's jaw tightened, his eyes shutting for a moment. "... Shenshen, that's not fair." 

Long-ge? Who was that? 

"Xi-ge said I was supposed to keep an eye on you," Zhou Shen said staunchly, and there were now too many –ge in this conversation. Ayanga's actual older brothers? _Zhou Shen's_ older brothers? But most Wu citizens of their generation had _no_ siblings, because of the unofficial one-child policy — "Especially since Long-ge isn't here!" 

"I'm the one who has to look after you on Xi-ge's behalf, not the other way round," Ayanga said, somehow looking less stern and more… put-upon? 

"Then," Zhou Shen grabbed Xu Weizhou's arm, "I'll go with Zhouzhou! Alone!"

"Are you trying to get me scolded by Xi-ge?" Ayanga said.

"You're making my job harder!" 

"You're Xi-ge's little smol, I'm the one who should be protecting you—”

"Then put on your coat and let's go have dinner!" Zhou Shen said, all but waving Xu Weizhou's arm at Ayanga. "Don't make me threaten to tell Shi-niang!" 

"Alright, alright," Ayanga said, reaching behind himself to fumble open his door again. 

"I— you're… married to … 'Xi-ge'?" Xu Weizhou said when Ayanga went to fetch his coat, and Xu Weizhou tried to tug his arm free. 

"What? No, of course not," Zhou Shen said, cocking his head up at Xu Weizhou and made a face. "You figured it out from those CP fans?" 

Xu Weizhou tried to protest – he didn't pay attention to Character-Pair fans – they were kind of gross with other celebrities, while his own… 

He only ever had one CP, no matter how much his agency thought it'd be fun to tease match-ups of him with other celebrities, and Xu Weizhou's fans didn't mention _that_ CP to him if they could help it. 

It wouldn't hurt Xu Weizhou's career in _Shanghai_ , but it'd impact Huang Jingyu's, and however much it hurt himself to think about it, Xu Weizhou wouldn't let anyone hurt Huang Jingyu. 

"Xi-ge is _Xi-ge_ , he's legally my brother," Zhou Shen said, "It's not a … Xi-ge is already _married_." 

"Then…" Xu Weizhou gestured at Ayanga's door. 

"Gazi-ge really misses Long-ge," Zhou Shen said, looking to the door, biting his lip. "He's not eating enough." 

Zhou Shen looked up at him; his eyes were huge and worried, like a wide-eyed kitten. "Zhouzhou, you could help right? Keep an eye on Gazi-ge… There's something … maybe I'm wrong though. Not just with Gazi-ge missing his husband, but other people—" 

"... his _husband_?" Xu Weizhou said. "But he's an Alpha…?" 

Zhou Shen blinked at him, and then patted his arm. "I'll show you the wedding video later." 

"Shenshen," Ayanga said, now sounding very long-suffering as he came back out, properly attired with his jacket. "How many people are you going to show it to?" 

"It's the best video," Zhou Shen said. "Since no one allowed _me_ to attend!" 

"There were a lot of horses," Ayanga protested. "And shooting—" 

"... there is _shooting_ at a wedding?" Xu Weizhou said, as Zhou Shen towed him along next to Ayanga. 

"It was a traditional Mongolian wedding," Zhou Shen said cheerfully. "Of course there was shooting! And horses and riding and a lot of yelling and it was very exciting, and no one would let me see it in person, I could have been in the car—” 

"The car was holding the cameras," Ayanga said. 

"—or the helicopter, with Xi-ge," Zhou Shen said. 

"Helicopters," Xu Weizhou repeated. 

"It was very exciting," Zhou Shen said. "Xi-ge nearly fell out, taking photos of Long-ge. You know what, I'll set up a viewing in one of the rooms later! I'll ask Ning-ge and Kai-di also, and we can all have a viewing party! You must attend as well, Gazi-ge! There will be snacks." 

"Why do I feel like you show our video to everyone as punishment for you not getting to attend?" Ayanga said, and he sounded long suffering but he was smiling. 

"Because it is," Zhou Shen said, beaming up at Ayanga. 

Ayanga made a small noise, smiling down at Zhou Shen, reaching to ruffle his hair, and that was when Xu Weizhou could see the edge of a scar above Ayanga's turtleneck. 

It looked remarkably like the mark one would leave on an omega, not on an Alpha. 

But couple that with the husband "Long-ge,” then… 

… Maybe Huang Jingyu wasn't entirely … wrong, about Wei's acceptance of… gay couples? Maybe?

* * *

Maybe it was because of that wedding video. 'Long-ge' was Zheng Yunlong, and _his_ Baidu page said he was an _Alpha_ too, Alpha and _married_ to _Ayanga_. 

Xu Weizhou looked between Zheng Yunlong's page, and the list of songs he'd put down for his team-up with Zhou Shen's team. He wasn't entirely sure he understood how their rankings had gone, but he didn't mind that he and Fei-shifu's team was now teamed up with Zhou Shen and Hacken Lee's. 

They were to sing three songs – one with all four of them, one with three, one with two. Xu Weizhou had been very cheerful to suggest Zhou Shen sing in all three, and volunteered to duet with Zhou Shen, and step back for the trio. 

Zhou Shen was practicing with Hacken Lee and Fei-shifu now, and Xu Weizhou had… 

A song in his head. 

It had been years, he thought. It was nearly the end of 2019 – by the time this was broadcast, it would be more than three years since he'd last spoken to Huang Jingyu. 

He chewed on his lip. 

He'd been in Wu for almost exactly three years. He'd turned down every possible proposition, contractual and emotional, because… 

Because there was still only one person in his heart. 

By now, most of Wu only knew he had that controversy, but Wei had already forgotten it. 

He traced his fingers over the song title, Wo Ai Ta. _I Love Him_.

Felt the dips and valleys that the ballpoint pen had left in the paper; as permanent as the marks Huang Jingyu had carved into his chest, with each touch, each smile and each glance. 

Four years, it had been four years. It can't be…

He hadn't stepped foot back into Shu since the ending of 2018. He missed _nothing_ of Shu except maybe the food, and his parents were settled safely in Shanghai. Zhou Yan was transitioning to popular music, as yet not quite settled in any particular genre but short of declaring war on the country that paid for their damn mountain goats, Shu would touch neither of them. 

It might _just_ be a performance, Xu Weizhou thought, as he pulled up the musical arrangement for _Wo Ai Ta_.

Chinese pronouns were ambiguous in sound, but not in _written_ form.

There was a wide difference between _legal_ and _acceptance_ , but if Ayanga could walk around bearing a mating mark from his Alpha husband like an omega, then there was no reason why Xu Weizhou had to keep his screaming raw emotions to himself. 

It would play directly into his edgy, rebellious, boundary-pushing reputation. 

He'd ask the post-production crew to keep the lyrics as _him_ , the male pronoun. He, a male beta who was supposed to love and be attracted to and marry and make babies with _female_ betas, loved another man.

He wasn't going to be ashamed; why not cut all ties with Shu on this stage, with the backing of these established singers, Hacken Lee and Fei Yuqin, and scream that even if Huang Jingyu might not feel the same anymore, even if Wei wouldn't step in for his sake, he didn't need Shu. 

He'd forged his own path, raw and bleeding, through Wu's entertainment industry on his own two feet, he didn't need Shu or the government's approval. 

He'd already told his agent unequivocally to refuse all engagements in Shu – Zhuge Liang's administration laying down a ban on him would just make official his severance, when he'd already made the first cut. 

Stating his unashamed, unrepentant, attachment in a way that Shu couldn't ignore was his final move. 

He was Zhou-di, wasn't he? He hadn't earned that title properly, if he didn't take his own stand. 

If Shu gunned for him then, well, he was ready; there was no one else for them to touch in Shu, not anymore.

* * *

Xu Weizhou was walking down the hallway with Wang Linkai – the little Alpha was incredibly famous for his rap; it was a little difficult to believe that he was only twenty, and already hugely in demand for his talent. 

Again, Xu Weizhou didn't do rap, not very much, the exceptionally precise diction and speed required for it wasn't his particular specialty, but like with Zhou Yan, he appreciated the technical difficulties. Besides, it was nice to talk about the play of language and meter with someone who really liked the flow and play of words. The kid was somewhat frustrated with trying to find some sort of… muse. Maybe a topic. Xu Weizhou would advise him to get a little more life experience, like going to another country and starting your career all over again from scratch while struggling to finish your degree in the face of national and institutional discrimination, but then, probably no one deserved to have to go to Shu. 

(Wei wasn't an option, they did things so differently there, Xu Weizhou was pretty sure they lived on a different planet and time.) 

Maybe he should go to America – that's where rock and rap came from after all, Wang Linkai might find something there, in addition to racism. 

Zhou Shen had abandoned them to go fetch his mentor for breakfast, though Xu Weizhou was pretty sure that Hacken Lee would have gotten the first round from the hotel buffet as soon as it opened, since the Alpha rose, like, before the sun. 

But the Alpha was indulgent of his mentee enough to go for a second round of breakfast just before the buffet closed. What Zhou Shen's 'Xi-ge' was going to think of the little omega flirting so badly with an Alpha twice his age was up to anyone's guess. Still it was kind of cute even when Xu Weizhou didn't try to dwell too much about it, and if it worked out, good for them. Right? 

They had to exit into the hotel foyer to go to the hotel buffet and Wang Linkai was starting to talk about the difficulty of rhyming English to Mandarin ("have you thought of using a different dialect instead? You're from Xiamen aren't you?" "Uh. I can't speak any of it…" ) when suddenly Xu Weizhou heard Zhou Shen shriek, " _Long-ge!_ " 

The little omega abandoned Hacken Lee right in front of them, and sprinted across the foyer. 

'Long-ge' cocked his head and then, visibly bracing for Zhou Shen, also opened his mouth: "GE-GE'S HOME ALREADY HAS A WIFE—" 

And Zhou Shen leapt straight UP into Long-ge's arms. 

"Your love will hurt her and hurt me—" 

Zhou Shen let out a peal of laughter, squishing his face against Long-ge's chest, even as he wrapped up around Long-ge's side like a koala, and then joined in, singing one full octave higher than Long-ge: "I advise you not to take a mistress' life!" 

Long-ge adjusted the little omega to sit more squarely on his hip. 

"Shenshen ah," 'Long-ge' said, not noticing the rest of them staring in wide-eyed … well, Xu Weizhou was mostly speechless, and Hacken Lee was choking.

"Is that Zhou Shen-laoshi's ma—" Wang Linkai started to say, when from the _stairwell_ , in almost the same pitch and register as Long-ge's, a solid _tenor_ rang out. 

"PLAYBOYS BETTER LISTEN TO ME, THOSE WITH WIVES AT HOME BETTER NOT DO WRONG!" 

"Niangzi!" Long-ge cried out in counter-melody, turning around to watch _Ayanga_ speed down the stairs three at a time, while somehow managing to continue with that crack-meme song at window-rattling volume.

Then they both, Long-ge and Ayanga, sang, as Ayanga caught up to them, "Ge has a wife, she loves me a lot—"

Who, Xu Weizhou wondered, was the _wife_ in this scenario? Both Long-ge and Ayanga were happily alternating _lines_ , referring to each other as wife, right before Zhou Shen started harmonizing at an octave and a half above them. 

The acoustics of the foyer was incredible – he could hear each of their voices as clear as bells, even when they started overlapping the verses; each syllable clear and precise. 

They were all basically standing around watching them do impromptu acapella – Ayanga, when starting the next verse of "Ge has a wife, please don't love me –" plucked Zhou Shen off Long-ge with one arm. 

Zhou Shen giggled and face-planted straight into Ayanga's neck, and both Long-ge and Ayanga continued singing the rest of the song, swapping melody and verses – and started all over again just so that Ayanga and Long-ge could somehow, with something that was practically a _dance move_ out of a musical, swing and spin Zhou Shen between them. 

"Is he mated to that tall one or to Ayanga?" Hacken Lee asked, sounding rather plaintive. 

"But they're married to _each other_?" Xu Weizhou said. They should be but—

Nothing about Zhou Shen's behaviour seemed particularly platonic? Omegas were cuddly and sweet with each other, like from TV depictions of schools with only beta and omega girls, but with Alphas, this read a lot like … well _mate_ behaviour. 

Ayanga spun Zhou Shen onto his feet, and all three were beaming—

And then a _third_ Alpha suddenly loomed behind them. 

"You two are so annoying! Corrupted my little smol!" And the third Alpha scooped up Zhou Shen. 

"Xi-ge!" Zhou Shen squeaked, but no one protested when Xi-ge stalked off with Zhou Shen back out through the front door. 

"Uh," Wang Linkai said. 

"... okay," Xu Weizhou said, "He said he wasn't married but…" 

"Lao Gong," Ayanga said, catching Long-ge's hand, "you're actually here?" 

"Yeah," Long-ge said, and grinned at Ayanga, both of them looking incredibly sappy, so, so mushy that Xu Weizhou knew Zhou Shen wasn't lying about _that_. 

"Come," Ayanga said, turning towards the rest of them. "I better introduce you, this is my husband Zheng Yunlong, everyone!" 

"... really?" Xu Weizhou blurted. 

"Yeah, I have the marriage certificate on my Weibo somewhere," Zheng Yunlong said, his speech slurring just a hint with the Beijing accent except… 

Xu Weizhou could swear he could hear something of a Sichuanese accent in it.

"It's allowed in Wei?" Wang Linkai said, eyes wide. "That video wasn't just— a documentary or something?" 

"Did… Shenshen showed you huh," Zheng Yunlong said, looking at them all. "Right, you're all pretty Wu—" 

"Except Zhou—" Wang Linkai said, but Xu Weizhou took several steps back. 

"Sorry, I forgot something, I have to go grab it from my room, go on ahead," Xu Weizhou said, and he did _not_ flee, did _not_ , because he didn't want to see Zheng Yunlong's recognition dawn on him, he didn't want to hear more of that Sichuanese than he already had.

Zhou Shen had made him watch that wedding video – and maybe it had been propaganda, maybe it had been just because these two were special, but Ayanga had looked so _pleased_ to introduce Zheng Yunlong as his _husband_ , an Alpha from _Shu_ that no one seemed to mind was married to another Alpha – and why was it that _he_ could but Xu Weizhou couldn't—

There was no one in the world that Xu Weizhou wanted to ever use that term for. 

Except one.

* * *

It was only because he had met Zheng Yunlong in _person_ , heard him speak and wander up and around the entire set that he wondered why he'd never heard of this Shu Alpha before. 

All of them were singers – they'd heard Zheng Yunlong's little display in the foyer; someone like him, married to such a prominent Wei Alpha as Ayanga, surely he should have been rather well-known too? 

There had been something even more _recognisable_ about Ayanga after his husband had shown up, and it had taken Xu Weizhou a little to place it: Ayanga had been _that_ Ayanga, the omega who had sang and made that music trailer for _The Enchanting Phantom_ , the 2017 movie remake of Leslie Cheung's classic _A Chinese Ghost Story_. Except the Ayanga who occasionally could be seen wandering around the hotel with Zhou Shen hanging off his back was an Alpha – and only because he was clearly much happier with his husband bothering the crew that Xu Weizhou could mentally link this Ayanga to the music video, as opposed to the frankly stern and forbidding Alpha that Xu Weizhou had first met in the earlier weeks of Our Song. 

(Cross-casting wasn't that unknown, especially in the entertainment industry, where it wasn't exactly easy to find male omegas whose husbands were willing to let them work in close contact with— well, all the other betas and Alphas and on video too. He wasn't surprised by Ayanga's cross-casting so much as how _well_ he did it.) 

Zheng Yunlong barely existed on Google (unsurprising; he had never been outside of China, apparently) but his Baidu page was… surprisingly long, and detailed as his Husband's, though most of this detail seemed to have come about from last year's SuperVocal show. 

How odd, though, that Xu Weizhou had truly heard nothing of him before. Was it because he'd spent most of his time in the musical theatre?

* * *

Zhou Shen's eyes had widened a little when he had handed him the arrangement, but otherwise had been amenable to sing his part. 

The little omega had cocked his head at Xu Weizhou during the rehearsal, and had giggled when Xu Weizhou had been handed a megaphone. 

Zhou Shen was not stupid, he had to have known what Xu Weizhou was doing, but perhaps he _didn't_ know _why_ , or maybe all he thought was that Xu Weizhou was going to do something Very Timmy Xu. 

They'd only known each other… what, a month? It wasn't enough for him to sob out his entire sad tragic story – Xu Weizhou had left that habit behind in Shu with his youth. 

Instead he saved the death-metal _scream_ for the actual performance. 

Scared the shit out of Ayanga, that was for sure. 

His throat felt raw, and he didn't care that the audience didn't like him enough to keep him on the show. 

Once this aired, he was fairly sure that he'd be blacklisted from Shu _permanently_ ; he'd probably have to apply for citizenship in Wu. 

The voting barely made sense, and besides Hacken Lee and Zhou Shen, the only others who were voted to stay for the next round were Ayanga and Fei-shifu. That was fine. It'd mean he would have these last few episodes to watch the last showings of Fei-shifu. And once Ayanga had opened his mouth during his performance, Xu Weizhou had _known_ that of the four mentees, only Zhou Shen and Ayanga could stay on, unless the voting was rigged. 

"Zhouzhou," Zhou Shen called out, just as he made his way out of the little room where he'd been handed his dismissal slip. "It… are you alright? _Will_ you be alright?" 

The song _Wo Ai Ta_ had clearly bothered him. 

The smile on Xu Weizhou's face felt vicious, a little off-kilter, but he was heady with triumph for all that he had been eliminated. He should be upset. 

"I'm fine, I'll be alright," he told the little omega, and let Zhou Shen lean up to hug him. "I have lots of shit to do, and more time to do it in, now I don't have to come here." 

"It'll be alright," Zhou Shen said insistently. "Shi-niang said so." 

Xu Weizhou didn't have the heart to tell him that no matter who his Shi-niang was in Wei, it wasn't going to help anything with Shu. Short of Wei's PM coming down personally to fix this up on Xu Weizhou's behalf, wave his pretty magic wand and proclaim that Wei was entirely okay with gay rainbows and unicorns that shat glitter and queer acceptance, and also he'd fucking officiate every damn male-male beta marriage up and down the Yellow River, there was nothing Zhou Shen's Shi-niang could fix. 

Still, the thought counted. 

"You could call me if you need anything," Zhou Shen insisted. 

"I have your WeChat," Xu Weizhou agreed. 

"And Gazi-ge's number," Zhou Shen said, which was a little strange considering that he barely _knew_ Ayanga, not really, but the Alpha wasn't as terrifying as he'd first seemed, and Zhou Shen clearly thought that his Gazi-ge and Long-ge could fix _everything_ , the way omegas always thought the world of Alphas.

"Yes," Xu Weizhou said, as reassuring as he could. "I'll call him if I need anything. You should head back, right, you have to film… more? With your mentor. I'll just go say goodbye to Fei-shifu, alright?" 

"Okay," Zhou Shen said. "Okay. I'll… I don't want you to leave." 

He was starting to have _emotions_ at Xu Weizhou. 

Xu Weizhou swallowed _hard_ and then stepped back and away, taking a deep breath until he was sure his voice was steady. "It's just another variety show, right? I'll get to go on so many, just keep an eye out for me. Maybe you might even come back to Wu again to do one next year." He shrugged till his jacket was back in place. "I'll see you around, okay?" 

Then he managed to usher Zhou Shen off towards Hacken Lee's dressing room, and sped-walked off towards Fei Yuqin's. 

… along the way he might have run into Ayanga and Zheng Yunlong; for someone who had been voted to stay, he looked rather upset and depressed, his Alpha husband leaning in close and murmuring something. 

When they heard Xu Weizhou come close, Zheng Yunlong sprang away, only his arm on Ayanga's elbow showing anything more intimate than friendliness. 

"Sorry, just looking for Fei-shifu," Xu Weizhou said, and then to show his… supportiveness of their relationship, pointed back behind him. "That studio is empty, I'll just close the door?"

"Sure, thanks," Zheng Yunlong said, Sichanese almost roughening the edges of his voice, and Xu Weizhou politely didn't hear it at all, making his way quickly to his own dressing room before he ran into yet more people who had _emotions_ and felt the urge to _share_. 

He would just … sit in his dressing room a while before trying to find Fei Yuqin. 

Yes. 

That was a great plan. 

He got to his door, grateful that the cameras had switched to following Zhou Shen rather than him. 

He was doubly grateful when he opened the door and realised that someone was sitting on his dressing table, examining his moisturizer. 

"Oh, you're finally here," Cao Fucking Zhi said. "Come, come come, we have plenty to talk about."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Cao Zhi, why are you here now? 
> 
> A reminder: Zheng Yunlong in this AU was born and raised in Chongqing city of Sichuan Province in Shu, before he Went to Beijing (Wei) for his university studies. Hence the dialect he speaks is Sichuanese.


	3. Shanghai, WU to..?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like dumping a new chapter early because i _could_. 
> 
> Things are _moving_. is it the climax yet? :D

He'd stated for Our Song's cameras that one of his idols was Fei Yuqin. The man had a voice made of _gold_ , one his own baritone continuously struggled to match up to. 

But anyone who fancied themselves something like a composer, or did anything with words, would know the name and face of Cao Zhi, Cao Cao's fourth son, legendary genius in composition, writing, lyricist, and generally anything written.

He had, when he was 16 and so much younger than he was now, thought of writing something to channel Cao Zhi's famous Gui Qin, _A Maiden's Sorrow_ , that he'd written to provoke Yang Xiu, after the latter had the temerity to get married. 

But of course, he wasn't anything as talented as Cao Zhi, whose very simple and accessible lyrics were earworms, and his short poems nothing short of sheer artistic use of language and imagery. 

Xu Weizhou's singing idol was Fei Yuqin and his technical mastery of the art; his idol _composition_ was Wei's Cao Zhi. 

Who was now sitting on his dressing table and pawing through his cosmetics and skin-care products like he'd never seen them before. 

Which… 

It'd been how many years since Cao Zhi _had_ last been in Wu? Well, besides that one time he'd caused some sort of explosive ripple of excitement when he'd turned up in the last episode of SuperVocal, but he'd spoken to no one but two of the Wei Alphas on the show, and then disappeared back up north. 

"You have a lot of skincare products," Cao Zhi said, twisting around and leaning over to check the tubes. 

"Uh, yes," Xu Weizhou said. 

Cao Zhi's sleeve caught at the edge of the table, and he made a little sound that was basically "oops" and if it wasn't for Xu Weizhou's mad scramble to grab him, he probably would have ended up face first with on the floor, covered with Xu Weizhou's cosmetics and the dressing table mirror.

"Dimethicone," Cao Zhi said, while Xu Weizhou tried to figure out how to apply pressure, or leverage so he could lift Cao Zhi back upright. 

Cao Zhi wasn't helping, trying to reach over for more of the skincare stuff. 

"You know that's just a silicone right," Cao Zhi said, "slathering sand all over your skin—" 

"It's a different kind of chemical," Xu Weizhou tried to say. 

"Don't do it, your skin's too good to be rubbed all over with sand." 

"Sand is _silica_ ," Xu Weizhou said. 

"Oh, right, silica. Not the same thing. So silicone's the stuff that dries out everything," Cao Zhi said, and started reading out the ingredients list from his moisturizer, flailing one sleeve dramatically into Xu Weizhou's face. 

It took until the fourth, Benzoyate something or other before Xu Weizhou realised Cao Zhi was singing it to the tune of _Wo Ai Ta_. 

"Uh," Xu Weizhou said, wondering what that was supposed to mean. What was going on? 

The video he had seen of Cao Zhi at SuperVocal, even the behind-the-scenes, had shown him merely float over to talk to Ayanga and, now he knew, Ayanga's _husband_ Zheng Yunlong, and then start talking to the drapes before floating off like a cloud in Yang Xiu's direction. 

"Did you want to talk to Ayanga? I mean, Gazi-ge," Xu Weizhou said, like a fool, as if there were that many people named _Ayanga_. 

(Or maybe there were! There were plenty of Mongolians in Wei. For all he knew, Ayanga was as common a name as something-long. Or whatever-kai) 

"Oh, Gazi is around?" Cao Zhi perked up, and the shift of weight had Xu Weizhou _almost_ spill Cao Zhi onto the floor proper.

Cao Zhi didn't seem to notice, somehow getting to his feet and started fluttering around the room, poking the single cushion on the armchair like it would squeak like Pikachu. 

"Yes I could go call—" Xu Weizhou started, then remembered, he'd basically shut both Ayanga and his husband into a room to have their quiet… sad gay emotions, and he had a very strong feeling that neither would appreciate having a lightbulb shine on it. 

Was… Cao Zhi alright? He knew Cao Zhi was spacy, but this seemed a bit… much. 

"Unnecessary, he's taken care of, I'm sure, our fierce little sister's wife will deal with it," Cao Zhi said, which made absolutely zero sense. Xu Weizhou tried to puzzle _that_ out— and in the space of two seconds, Cao Zhi had wandered back to the door and Xu Weizhou had a lovely five seconds of _oh no I left the door open_ like Cao Zhi was going to wander into traffic like a particularly stupid dog.

Xu Weizhou dashed up to him, and Cao Zhi looped his arm over Xu Weizhou's elbow. "You're so tall," he said, beaming up at him. "That's good, that's very good for performance isn't it, great lung power and projection." 

"Uh, height doesn't correlate with—"

"Your rearrangement of Wo Ai Ta was very good," Cao Zhi said, and Xu Weizhou's brain screeched to a halt. 

"... you… heard it?" 

"Oh yes, very good, I particularly liked how you assigned certain parts to Smol and kept the love declarations to yourself." 

Who was Smol? Huh? What? 

"Death metal scream, though," Cao Zhi said, reaching up and managing to pat the reversed-tie on his throat Xu Weizhou hadn't had time to remove. "Very bad for your throat. You have to prepare for it. Ask Long'er about that!" 

Long'er? Who? 

"Are you—" 

"Say that you agree," Cao Zhi said. 

Xu Weizhou blinked. "I agree?" he said carefully. "Cao Zhi-laoshi?" 

"Good," Cao Zhi said. "Good boy. Come along now. There was also that other song, ah, the concert you gave in June—”" 

And well, who could refuse a critique on music and lyrics from Cao Zhi himself? He'd at one point _also_ been a rockstar, so even if it had ended in disaster that no one was going to talk about, he certainly knew his stuff about performance as _well_. 

Cao Zhi seemed to know where he was going, just winding through the hallways behind the main stage of the concert hall like he'd helped design it (and maybe he did, or he'd seen blueprints: wasn't it said that Cao Zhi had a photographic memory as well? Or was it about his older brother Cao Pi?). They passed several rooms, music practice rooms – at least one was one that Zhou Shen had definitely dragged him in as the little omega had been looking for a room to project Ayanga and his husband's frankly terrifying wedding film, and Cao Zhi paused just at an awkward enough angle that all Xu Weizhou could see into were a bunch of chairs and edges of clothing. Possibly Zhou Shen's big black coat he'd worn to perform Wild Wolf. 

"I'll just take this one first!" Cao Zhi said, and hauled off before Xu Weizhou could even hear the faint acknowledgement from whoever was in the room. 

The air was chilly enough that his lungs protested when Cao Zhi dragged him out of the concert venue, and then _he_ had to grab Cao Zhi before he walked into the path of a car. More specifically, a huge black van.

"Ah, come, come— " and Xu Weizhou was dragged around to the back seat. 

When he thought back to the whole journey, it was mostly about the worry that Cao Zhi had been about to walk into a _car_ 's path, so of course he'd followed to make sure he didn't wander into highway traffic. 

Add the fact that Cao Zhi was dissecting Xu Weizhou's concert performances from the past year _and_ the imagery he'd used in his 2017 second album, _and_ the delivery he'd done in the first two episodes of Our Song, Xu Weizhou not realising he was in the _airport_ wasn't very surprising. 

He only realised he was probably in the midst of being _kidnapped_ when the plane literally took off, and Cao Zhi pouted that he wasn't allowed to ask for any more drinks until cruising altitude.

* * *

Cao Zhi abandoned him in an apartment, apparently not noticing the rising panic that was starting to choke him. 

There was a lot of forest. There was so _much_ forest that the interior of the car (with its black tinted windows!) that picked them up from the airport became so dark that Cao Zhi used his own _phone_ as a light to write with. 

It was fascinating how much one's mind could multitask. 

One part of his mind was following Cao Zhi's composing – he was literally composing an actual song, right in the car, pulling in the imagery of a duck he'd seen on the plane, a lake that had looked, from the height, like a pond, but probably was an actual proper lake, and the reflections of the airplane's wings and tying it together with an impressive meter and what Xu Weizhou suspected was an(other) ode to Yang Xiu. 

Another part of his mind was very much aware of how they had been in a car for a very long time, there was a lot of forest, and he wasn't entirely sure if he had his wallet with him. 

The final, smallest part of his mind was singing "Lord I'm one, lord I'm two, Lord I'm three, Lord I'm four, Lord I'm five thousand miles away from hooooome~" 

When the car stopped, Xu Weizhou followed Cao Zhi up this rather tall, intimidatingly _isolsted_ building, into its lift, and then into an apartment because—

What else was he supposed to do? The men who had let them out of the car, who were manning the _lift_ , were all in dark suits and unnecessary shades, and looked like they were more murderous Chinese versions of James Bond. 

"Oh, right," Cao Zhi said, after he wandered into the kitchen, found a bottle of water, handed it to Xu Weizhou and then waved vaguely around the living room. "I need my piano. This is a piano song. I'll set the guards." 

"Cao Zhi-lao—" Xu Weizhou said, but Cao Zhi floated out the front door and it locked with an ominous click. 

Guards. 

Guards like the ones downstairs in the car? 

He had been… kidnapped. Held hostage. 

He went over to the nearest window – there was nothing but trees. And he couldn't open the window, and he sure as hell wasn't going to try climbing out, he'd break his neck. 

Xu Weizhou pulled out his phone and inhaled sharply at the waiting message. 

_Welcome to Wei!_

He flicked on his GPS signal, even as he checked the— oh god he only had _two_ bars on his signal— and opened his map app… 

…. The pin put him right in the middle of an unmarked, uncharted, un… road-mapped _anything_ honest to Christian god _forest_. 

He didn't have any data plan with _Wei_ telcos – his data plan including roaming in Shu, even if he didn't use it, but there was no roaming with _Wei's_ telcos.

His phone bill was going to be _exorbitant_ – he couldn't send a chat to Zhou Shen, god knew what they'd charge per databyte.

A Cao had kidnapped him. _Cao Zhi_ had brought him to Wei, dumped him in a very pretty prison in the middle of a fucking _forest_ , and, and, and, he—

There was only one person he knew who had _spoken_ to Cao Zhi and whose number was on his contact list. 

He called Ayanga. 

"I'm _stuck_ in the middle of a forest, in _Wei_ ," he all but shrieked as soon as Ayanga picked up the phone. 

".... h-hello?" Ayanga said. 

" _HELP_ i've been kidnapped by Cao Zhi and there are murderous assassin gangsters outside the door!" 

"... L-lao Gong, I don't think I— is that Sichuanese? Is—" 

"Why is your phone yelling in Sichuanese?" 

Xu Weizhou burst into tears. 

And it didn't make _Mandarin_ come to his throat. 

What a way to find out that Sichuanese was still his mother tongue, Xu Weizhou thought hysterically. 

"Can you— oh… Lao Gong, he's _crying_ I don't even know who he is, and he's crying. Calm down, take deep breaths—" 

"I'm TRYING to breathe but I can't even open the windows and my phone bill is going to skyrocket because I don't have a roaming plan with Wei at all, no one has a roaming plan with Wei!!" 

"Niangzi, give me— turn it on speaker— roaming plan with Wei? Who do we know who isn't from Wei and has your number?" 

"All of SuperVocal?" Ayanga said, sounded perplexed. "But this doesn't sound like one of our boys? Would any of them speak Sichuanese?" 

"Right. HELLO IS THIS HUANGZI?" Zheng Yunlong all but bellowed into the phone. 

"Don't mention _Huang_ ," Xu Weizhou cried. 

"The fuckery," Zheng Yunlong said. 

The choking thing in his throat exploded into MORE tears. "I'm in Beijing, my phone says I'm in Beijing but he's not _here_ and I've been kidnapped by Cao Zhi!" 

"…Who— slow the hell down," Zheng Yunlong said in the coarsest Sichuanese Xu Weizhou had ever heard, "what and where Cao Zhi kidnapped you but he isn't here?" 

"—that sounds almost like him, Lao Gong," Ayanga muttered in the distance. 

Huang Jingyu had promised to be in here, in Beijing, but he was NOT, and Xu Weizhou couldn't think except to sob, even louder, "He's NOT here and Cao Zhi isn't here either!" 

"Who the fuck even are you," Zheng Yunlong said.

"Xu Wei _zhou_ you dumbass dragon!" 

There was silence as Xu Weizhou hiccuped, trying to keep his heart rate down. 

"Uh. So what's your problem," Zheng Yunlong said, "I think you called the wrong num—" 

"The only person I know in Shanghai who is from _Wei_ is Ayanga, and he's definitely spoken to Cao Zhi— _you_ have spoken to Cao Zhi," Xu Weizhou snapped. "And I can't call Zhou Shen because my phone bill will explode and the data is insanely expensive!" 

"Your actual call is probably charged by the second then," Zheng Yunlong pointed out. 

"You're absolutely useless!" Xu Weizhou said. 

"He just called me useless," Zheng Yunlong said to Ayanga. 

"Give me your phone," Ayanga said. “Don’t you have Cao Zhi's number?" 

"Absolutely not," Zheng Yunlong said, "You had whatsisname's number—" 

"Lao Gong, I can't understand you when you speak Sichuanese too fast." 

"I'm going to hang up now," Zheng Yunlong told Xu Weizhou. “And, uh, we'll get someone to call you back. I think. Okay? Okay. Bye." 

Xu Weizhou stared at his phone and it's very unhelpful dial-tone and. 

Burst into tears. 

_Again_. 

What was he supposed to _do_? He had no money, he didn't have his wallet— did they even accept renminbi in Wei? Did they accept _credit cards_ how was he supposed to get back to Shanghai? He knew no one here except Huang Jin— 

His phone beeped.

He fumbled with it, and realised it was a WeChat message. 

From _Huang Jingyu_. 

_Saw that you were noticed by Cao Zhi – congra—_

He didn't finish reading, and then stabbed his finger on the little phone-call button on the chat. 

Please, please, he didn't know what else to do, he'd apologise for screwing up Huang Jingyu's career, for showing up in Beijing like this unannounced but— please _someone_ help—

And. 

The call hung up on him. "We're sorry," a pleasant generic voice said, "the user you're trying to call does not have his phone with him at this moment. Please try again later." 

Xu Weizhou slumped hard against the wall, staring at the message and finally noted the time. 

It had been sent _hours_ ago. 

WeChat had been delayed, probably because he was on the _plane_ and in a forest with nearly no signal, an—

_Huang Jingyu wasn't here. He'd promised to be here and he wasn't, and he hadn't picked up._

"I— I waited too long," Xu Weizhou said to the empty, echoing apartment. "I waited too long and he's not waiting anymore." 

He slumped down. His phone fell to the floor in a clatter, and he buried his face in his knees. 

He'd waited too long and now everything was _over_.

* * *

"Cut!" The director shouted.

Dilraba pulled away, scrunching up her face as she wiped at her cheek. "If I have to end up with your saliva all over me," she sighed out, "can you at _least_ make sure to aim?"

“That's what I was going to say," the director said, humour curled obviously around every word. "You have to work on your aim a little more there, Jingyu."

Huang Jingyu ducked his head down, all hundred eighty-seven centimetres of him hunching inwards. "Sorry," he said. "I wasn't looking properly."

She'd be surprised if he _could_ see; despite the best efforts of the makeup artists to put eyedrops on him and press cold cucumbers all over his eyes, she could see the puffy red rims around them. And underneath the cologne he wore – some sort of neutral scent that made her wonder if he mistook air freshener for body mist – was the hint of alcohol that he carried around him like a badge of honour. Or, more likely, his personal scent.

"We've been at this for a while now," the director shook his head. "Take a break, Jingyu, Raba. Ten minutes, then we'll come back to film this kiss again."

"Alright," Dilraba nodded, resting her hand on Jingyu's elbow and squeezing before he could protest. He looked a little mullish – weeks of filming together told her that it wasn't because he wasn't to finish work earlier, but that he was, as always, worried about keeping everyone at work because of his own poor performance – but finally nodded. Then, he headed over to the little corner where he kept his things.

Dilraba watched him grab for his phone before doing the same with her own. A couple of messages from her mother, a news article from Han Hong, a essay's worth of texts from Da Zhang Wei that she wasn’t going to bother reading—

"Jingyu!" That was the director's voice. "Jingyu, where are you going? Jingyu!"

She looked up. Jingyu was striding forward, eyes fixed straight ahead. He had nothing with him but his phone clenched in one hand. Back at the corner where he had been likely only seconds ago, the tip of a fresh cigarette burned bright orange for a moment before extinguishing itself.

"Jingyu!"

"I," Huang Jingyu said, his voice steely in a way she had never heard from him and which made her understand _why_ so many of his fans said that he made for a better Alpha than beta, "am going to Beijing."

"After you're done filming of course," the director said, confused but firm. "Get back here—" 

"He'd _called_ ," Huang Jingyu said, and his steely voice was even firmer than concrete, his gaze so intent that if she didn't know him, she'd think it was almost murderous. 

It was also a very familiar expression. Where had she seen it? 

"Your father?" the director asked. “Family emergency?" 

Well, it could also have been Jingyu's mother. It wasn't as if Mandarin – or Chinese in general – was so convenient as to differentiate its pronouns in speech.

" _He_ called," Huang Jingyu said, and it wasn't his father, everyone in hearing shot could _tell_ he didn't mean his father, or his siblings, or his cousins or anyone, but — "He called and _I didn't answer_. I am going to Beijing." 

And Huang Jingyu just turned and _left_ and the director's shouts didn't even slow his stride. 

Dilraba grabbed her purse and phone, following him out, still trying to figure out what was so familiar about—

Suddenly, it clicked. He looked like a fixated Alpha who either had smelled his omega's scent, or—

Holy _shit_ he was going to walk into traffic!

She grabbed him by the back of his _jacket,_ yanking him down hard enough that he almost fell against her.

"Who the hell, is it your omega?" she demanded. 

"I have to get to Beijing, I _promised_ ," Huang Jingyu said, sounding now like a stunned goldfish, and she almost slapped him. 

"I'll go get the _car_ ," she said, and before he could try to get up, shifted her grip to squeeze his nape. 

Unlike most betas, who would react to such a hold by freezing or possibly curling up into a boneless ball, Huang Jingyu _snarled_ at her. 

Like an _Alpha_. 

She was _right_ , holy shit she was right. "Stay down," she snapped, shoving command into her voice as hard as she could. "I'll drive you to the fucking _airport_ , you can't walk to _Beijing_." 

"I have to—" 

"I'm taking you to the airport so you can _fly_ to Beijing and you can be there in a matter of hours, not _days_! You hear me, you stupid whale?" she growled, tightening her grip on his nape, trying not to dig her nails in _too_ hard, until he blinked and shook off the fog of—

It was fixation, on the verge of _frenzy_. With no one to fight and no omega in _sight_ , it might well mean that he'd injure anyone in the way until he was sedated. 

Unless she set him an actual goal he could understand. 

"I—" 

"Get your wallet," she commanded. "And meet me out front here while I get my _car_." 

He blinked, again, and then made to get up – she could let go, and he didn't stagger into traffic. 

Instead his PA-cum-manager came running out. "What is going on?" 

"Mate frenzy," Dilraba said shortly. "I'm getting my car, get him a ticket to Beijing before he starts eating furniture." 

Together they managed to shove the giant lunk into the backseat of her car because no way was she going to let him claw up her dashboard, and the backseat doors could be child-locked. 

"Beijing, why Beijing, mate-frenzy? But he's a _beta_ ," the PA said, climbing into her passenger seat. 

"Seatbelt," she snapped at them both, and then floored the accelerator before the director came out demanding what the hell was going on.

* * *

Xu Weizhou didn't even notice the door opening; all he registered were hands touching his shoulders, trying to draw him out of his ball of huddled misery, and… 

Not at all Huang Jingyu's scent. An omega's scent, and thus he didn't care. It didn't matter. 

"Oh, Zhouzhou," a vaguely familiar voice said. "I could absolutely _smack_ that silly child. Here, can you drink something?" 

Xu Weizhou glanced up, uncomprehending, until finally features swam into focus. 

He Jiong was trying to offer him a water bottle. 

"He didn't pick up," Xu Weizhou said, his voice feeling— raw. Rough. Just like his chest, scraped raw and empty, and for once completely lacking the anger that had been driving him for years. 

Everything, all for naught, he thought, because he'd waited too long. He'd waited too long, ignored Huang Jingyu for so long and now he wasn't in Beijing. 

There was no more _point_ —

"No, Zhouzhou, there's always a point," He Jiong said, soothingly. "Here, drink this, I'll… it's … oh." he leaned over, and found Xu Weizhou's phone. It still was unlocked to Huang Jingyu's chat-screen, so He Jiong knew. 

"Oh Zhouzhou. Drink this, I'll call him alright?" 

Xu Weizhou stared at the water bottle, and couldn't even make himself unscrew the cap until He Jiong did it for him. 

Didn't even do anything more than hold it until He Jiong pulled him close and tipped the bottle against his lips for him, until he _had_ to swallow or choke. 

Or drown, maybe. 

Didn't matter. 

"Hello? Yes, you're his PA? Tell him to call. Tell him to call Zhouzhou right now. Or— or hand me to him—" 

A woman's voice snarled back on the phone, a little distant, but loud enough even though He Jiong's phone wasn't on speaker. 

"Dumbass is in a mate frenzy, can't come to the phone, he can't speak other than three words so I'm driving him to the airport." 

"Zhouzhou? Is that Zhouzhou? TELL HIM I'LL DO BETTER THAN A CALL—" 

Xu Weizhou's head jerked, towards the phone – was it Huang Jingyu's voice? No, it was the woman's voice, and Xu Weizhou's attention scattered again. 

"His PA got him a ticket, or else the idiot will walk to Beijing. Where is he?" 

"Alright, tell him Zhouzhou's in Cao Avenue, there'll be someone to pick him up." Hands again on Xu Weizhou's wrist. "Drink more, Zhouzhou." 

He didn't even have the energy to shake his head. 

"Four years," He Jiong said, almost philosophically. "It's been nearly four years and you… aren't over him, and he's not over you. If you were an omega, I'd swear this is imprinting." 

"He didn't pick up," Xu Weizhou said, and his voice cracked. "He didn't pick up, and I just wanted a— he… just a call. To hear his voice." 

He had thought he'd heard his voice, but it hadn't been, had it? What was the _point_ of all this? 

He Jiong took a deep breath. "We'll bring him here, alright? Zhouzhou, it's alright, just stay here, don't fade." 

But Xu Weizhou had shut his eyes and buried his head against his knees again. 

"Shit. Alright." A fumbling with the phone, and then He Jiong was speaking again, if distant enough that the words no longer made sense. 

(Or maybe he was just not able to process it, not anymore.) 

"Wang— yes. It's me. I'm requesting a pick up of Huang Jingyu from Beijing airport. He's currently enroute from Changsha, and will land in Beijing in a couple hours. Can you do the security clearance, and bring him over to Zijian's? The apartments, I'll send you the unit number. Yes. No, I _didn't_ know that he was bringing in a new recruit or favourite, I literally was told two hours ago by Gazi that there was someone stuck in these apartments and had to dig through every apartment to find Zhouzhou basically fading in here from an interrupted imprinting. _Yes_ , send a few doctors too, I'll make sure that the next one gives you a full twenty-four hour advance warning for the security check, thanks." 

Hands again, on him, but Xu Weizhou wasn't quite registering it. Nothing mattered. 

Not anymore.

* * *

"Sir. Could you clarify the security clearance, sir?" 

Wang Xi exhaled and turned the video to… the agent stationed at the airport. "What is the issue? Were the instructions not clear enough?" 

"No sir," the agent said, and the video showed that he made an aborted motion to salute the camera. Wang Xi tried not to sigh. The agent was new enough to still think saluting was necessary. "It's just—” 

"It's just a pick up," Wang Xi said. "Is there an issue with his identity?" 

"No, Sir," the agent said and visibly bit his lip. "Perhaps you should see for yourself sir? Camera 24." 

Wang Xi swapped it over and then. 

Well. 

That was definitely Huang Jingyu in a secure interview room – the up-and-coming actor who had not too long ago been the new inexperienced one in _Operation Red Sea_. The theme song had been up for grabs amongst quite a few of Cao Zhi's favourites, and Wang Xi had to smack Ziwei for trying to suggest him to sing it. 

He opened his mouth to ask what the hell was the problem then, unless he was some sort of doppelganger, there didn't seem to be an issue with his identity— then the beta stood up and paced, all but _vibrating_. 

"How much _longer_ I have to get to _him_ ," the beta _snarled_ and… 

There was something about his eyes. Wang Xi squinted. Looked back at the ID on his other screen. "He's supposed to be a beta," Wang Xi said. 

"Yes sir," the agent said. "He's— he's a beta but—" 

He didn't move but Wang Xi could hear the helpless note in his tone. 

A beta, but he looked like he was in… "Wait a moment," Wang Xi said and reached over for his other phone. 

_I am not going to approve a fixated—_ he paused. Fixated beta sounded almost _wrong_. Imprinted betas happened sometimes, though he'd never witnessed it personally, but it did happen, especially since omegas almost all married much fairly young; so extraneous Alphas tended to marry betas instead. 

_Fixated beta_ , he wrote finally. _That's dangerous._

The message chat box blinked. 

_That solves things neatly,_ He Jiong wrote in reply. 

_Then you get out of the way,_ Wang Xi wrote, trying not to think about the giant mess _that_ would cause if a fixated _anyone_ even hurt He Jiong, the oldest and most senior of the Favourites. 

"Get two Alpha agents to accompany him," Wang Xi said out loud to his waiting agent. "Tell them to keep their distance but keep an eye on him." 

"Yes Sir." 

Wang Xi eyed the pacing beta on his screen. "Just out of curiosity, how on earth did you corral him into the room?" 

"We didn't," the agent admitted. "Look at Camera 25, sir." 

And from the other angle of the room, Wang Xi could see the infamous Dilraba Dilmurat.

Only other one who'd turned down a Cao – she'd turned down Cao Ang when he wanted to make her his Favourite, just as Wang Xi had turned Cao Jie down. The oldest and youngest Caos – and she had been what, just twenty-one? 

She was infamous in the Favourites' circles for staring down Cao Ang, _the_ Communal Wife, and saying "Nah." 

Female Alphas had the balls, Wang Xi had to give her that. 

"Huh," he said, cocking his head. Dilraba looked up at the camera, staring straight up, as if she knew he was paying attention. 

"I'll go with him," she said, clearly, to the camera. "That dumbass knows jiu-jitsu and he'd probably break someone before we get there." 

That would be useful, Wang Xi thought. She'd gotten him here, in the middle of what might well be the verge of a mate-frenzy. Not many betas could _recognise_ it, since they didn't have that specialized Alpha sex-ed when they were in high school. Something that he'd bring up to Si Fu-ren to pass to Zhen Fu-ren the next time he saw him.

He tapped to his agent's phone, which allowed him to link briefly to hers. "Thank you, Dilraba. I'll leave him in your hands – the car to drive you there should be arriving in two minutes. Help keep his hands to himself, and let He Jiong out of harm's way as soon as you arrive." 

She stared down at her phone. "I thought only Favourites had the whole talking hands-free thing." 

"Lucky you," Wang Xi said drily. "You've been temporarily deputized." 

"And why is He-laoshi involved at all? He-laoshi's Cao Zhi's isn't he? I've been wanting to ask this ever since He-laoshi called this idiot—" 

Wang Xi huffed a laugh and leaned back. "Classified." 

"I've been deputized!" She picked up her phone and waved it at the camera. 

"I determine what you get to be told as a temporarily deputized civilian," he said, amused, even as he tracked the movement of the car coming to pick up Huang Jingyu and his escort. His agent had already found two other Alphas to assign the escort duty to. Good. 

Dilraba scowled at the camera. "You are such a dick." 

"Language," Wang Xi murmured. 

"Consider it as payment for my services, I actually _was_ working before I got shanghai'd into this." 

"Considering that you were supposed to be in Changsha, maybe the better word is Changsha'd," Wang Xi said. "Extract He Jiong, and he'll tell you whatever he feels necessary." 

"Or you could tell me?" 

"This channel is shutting down in five seconds," Wang Xi said cheerfully, "Thank you for your service, goodbye." 

"You are _still_ a di—" 

Wang Xi flicked while watching Huang Jingyu, so he didn't see Dilraba's expression when she asked the agent who came to let them out of the room, "Is he always like this? Does your boss just spoil him stupid so he can play at being James Bond?" 

"I have no idea what you're talking about, sir," Wang Xi's agent said politely. "The car is here, please follow me and refrain from destroying any furniture or fixtures on the way." 

"I'll smack Wang Xi's head into the next fixture I see," Dilraba muttered. 

"That's government property, sir," Wang Xi's agent said. "You would have to be billed for any damage." 

"Wang Xi's head or the fixture?" 

"Both, sir." 

Wang Xi didn't quite roll his eyes, but he watched Huang Jingyu follow, and, well. 

Dilraba had grabbed him by the arm and towed him forward. Hadn't gone for the nape-hold, but she was on the short side and Huang Jingyu was following docilely enough. 

He turned back to the chat message to He Jiong. _ETA 2 hours._

The chat pinged. _Make it one hour, please._

"That bad?" Wang Xi wondered out loud. Well, great. Who knew what state this interrupted imprint was in? It probably wasn't going to be pretty.

* * *

_ETA two minutes, standby for retrieval,_ He Jiong received on his phone, and got up to make sure the door was unlocked. 

He'd managed to coax Zhouzhou to the couch, at least, where the poor boy had promptly curled up into a huddled ball, and he'd managed to get him to drink about a quarter of the water. He Jiong could _smack_ Cao Zhi – almost four years and Cao Zhi nearly tipped the boy into… 

He'd never heard of an interrupted imprinting lasting more than a year; someone would go crazy, or they'd have administered the drugs that would break the imprinting.

But then, imprints – and fixations – happened to omegas and Alphas almost exclusively, and the stats were all about omegas and Alphas. Nothing on _betas_.

Only because He Jiong was an omega did he recognise this as an interrupted imprinting. But for three years? 

They were _fortunate_ that Huang Jingyu apparently reciprocated, because who knew what would happen if Huang Jingyu rejected Zhouzhou? Just the fact that Zhouzhou had _percieved_ rejection had him spiralling. 

He Jiong had the door unlocked, unlatched, and just in time too: it burst open and Huang Jingyu stumbled straight in, eyes wild. 

"Zhouzhou?" he said, and Xu Weizhou's face jerked up. 

For almost a half-minute, they both stared at each other – neither of them were _breathing_. 

And then Huang Jingyu _moved_ , almost shoving He Jiong into the wall in his haste to crash into Zhouzhou, something like a growl deep from his _chest_. 

"How rude, Jingyu," He Jiong said— and got yanked out of the door by his arm. 

Dilraba slammed the door shut – all He Jiong got to see was Huang Jingyu pinning Zhouzhou down onto the couch – and Zhouzhou's hands grabbing Huang Jingyu's coat so hard the mid-seam of the back literally _snapped_.

"Are you alright, He-laoshi?" Dilraba asked. 

"Yes… yes, I'm fine. Zhouzhou is—” 

There was a very _loud_ cry from behind the door – considering how thick the doors were in this apartment complex, that was impressive— ah , no wait, the soundproofing strip from the bottom of the door had been ripped off with Huang Jingyu's excessively Alpha-like excitement in shoving the door open. He had always kind of wondered about that boy. 

Dilraba and He Jiong both stepped away from the door with exactly the same thought. 

"So is there an explanation for this?" Dilraba said when they were both safely down the hallway on the other end from this particular apartment, having abandoned Wang Xi's agents to awkwardly guard the apartment. 

"Why are you here?" He Jiong asked curiously. "It doesn't exactly concern you—"

"I was deputized by our Great Wei's biggest tsundere," Dilraba said frankly, "And also I paid for Jingyu's PA's drinks on the plane here. And risked my car's upholstery to drive the fixated idiot to the airport. So, I'd like to know what's going on." 

"Ah," He Jiong said. "Well." he gestured at the door and the apartment and the two guards. "This is the apartment complex for housing Zijian's Favourites." 

There was a very faint vibration under their feet, like furniture had been thumped _very_ heavily. No amount of soundproofing was going to prevent _that_. 

"Is the omega going to die?" Dilraba asked after a moment's staring down at their feet. "Jingyu's… fixated and he's really more than a match for a lot of Alphas." 

"Zhouzhou's not an omega," He Jiong said. 

He'd grown into his— proportions from the last time He Jiong had seen him in 2016, somehow a lot less gawky. Though the huddled ball of misery for the past couple of hours had made him seem rather more delicate, He Jiong was pretty sure that he could take a bit of… um. Enthusiasm. 

That cry earlier had not been agony or pain. 

"Alright, yay, he's not going to die then," Dilraba said. "You said he was also—"

"Interrupted imprinting," He Jiong said and exhaled with a huff. "So at least both of them feel as strongly—"

"When did Jingyu have the time to go and get fixated on someone who imprinted on him?" Dilraba asked. "He's been— I don't know if you know, but Jingyu has been, to put it delicately, all over the place with loads of people, and comes in hungover every day—"

"I knew," He Jiong sighed, very quietly. He knew everything about everyone who had once come onto his show Happy Camp. 

"—right, you're He-laoshi," Dilraba said. "So you'll know when—"

"It was in 2016. Almost four years ago. They met in 2016 and then were separated until now." He Jiong's smile was very crooked, he could feel it on his face. Her eyes widened. 

"Who'd heard of an interrupted imprinting or fixation lasting this long without intervention?" Dilraba exclaimed. 

"We're probably witnessing the only modern example. It's probably because they're both betas that they didn't die from it," He Jiong said. "Did Wang Xi send medics along as well?" 

"I think they said that the medics will arrive in an hour, they sent us ahead first." 

"Maybe an hour would be long enough for their first union in years to allow them to be apart for a few minutes at least," He Jiong said. He pressed his hand to his forehead a little. 

"He-laoshi, are you alright? Did we— did anything—" 

"No it's fine, I'm not hurt," He Jiong murmured, and patted Dilraba's concerned hand. "Did you have— ah, I'll make arrangements to have you sent back to Beijing proper—" He paused. "No, you were in Changsha weren't you? With Jingyu… Right. I'll arrange for you to be driven back to the airport, it'll be fine." 

"He was actually filming, the director will want an explanation—"

"It's Cao Business now," He Jiong said. "Zhouzhou is Zijian's newest Favourite." 

He smiled very gently at Dilraba's pout. She'd refused Cao Ang – and therefore this was as far as she was going to get in terms of knowing what, precisely, went on with Cao Business. 

Granted, what would happen after he got her sent back to resume filming was Cao Zhi getting a huge scolding. Zhouzhou was a _person_ , probably stunned by the Cao presence and aura, and then scared and abandoned in a new place without his own safety nets and resources before suddenly getting rejected by the beta he'd imprinted on years ago. He wasn't a bag of groceries forgotten on a doorstep. 

Thank goodness Gazi had called him straight away – things would have been a little more fraught if Gazi had panicked and called _Si Fu-ren_.

"Ah well," Dilraba muttered. "No one's going to complain then, if it has Cao business stamped on it. Will make filming difficult if my co-star is…"

Not just her co-star, He Jiong thought. Zhouzhou had looked like an imprinted omega. He Jiong wouldn't be surprised if he not only went into heat at finally getting back with Huang Jingyu, but a long one too. He made a mental note to tell the guards to ensure the two of them were well-watered and fed. Jingyu was a little… too straightforward in a way – if Xu Weizhou, a Shu citizen already kidnapped from Wu, ended up injured or worse, he wouldn't be surprised if Shu's government took great exception to it. 

And of course Zijian wouldn't have bothered informing any of his siblings; He Jiong was going to have to inform their PM's husband. 

"Zijian, ah," He Jiong said, thinking of _that_ upcoming headache. Of course he'd pick Zhouzhou, the one Shu citizen who had a literal ban from seeing _someone_ ; the same someone whom Zhouzhou was currently having a very loud and very physical reunion with in there. 

They were going to have to unearth _everything_ from four years ago now and pore through it, so that their Prime Minister Sima Yi would be able to look at Zhuge Liang in the face, smile at him, say that absolutely nothing political was happening. 

There were only two people in the entirety of the three nations of China who were banned from "appearing in the same frame" as each other. And now, _now_ those same two persons were consummating their mutual… imprinting/fixation. One of them was very likely going to go into heat. 

Zijian was going to get a piece of his mind later.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know that in variety shows like Our Song, most of the singers/artistes are actually not rehearsing for an entire week. The episodes are recorded like, at least a week or more in advance, so that is why the "up next" can have highlights for the next week, but for the most part, artistes actually have their own shit to do, and generally only manage to come in 2, 3 days before day of filming to rehearse their songs etc, and then run off to do their other shit again.
> 
> Our Song is very much _not_ like Super Vocal, which was actually pretty much like Singing Summer Camp (though, again, established or well-known singers like Ayanga, Zheng Yunlong, Wang Xi, and even Zhou Shen, still had other engagements here and there throughout the 3 months of filming/camp. They just didn't have as _many_ engagements during, and thus could actually spend a lot more time with each other for the super vocal filming) and they were filming very close to events as they happened, so it is actually quite atypical compared to other shows like Our Song.
> 
> But for simplicity's sake, I'm going to just sort of ignore the possibilities of everyone having had other engagements, unless it's plot important.
> 
> [《哥有老婆》](https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1s4411t7nw/) or Your Older Brother has a Wife. As in this is the crack-song that the three of them just decided to flash-mob sing in the lobby of the hotel just because.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Huang Jingyu's (黄景瑜) name is very close in pronunciation to whale 鲸鱼, and a mispronunciation makes it sound like goldfish (jin yu). Better yet, the yu in his name is the exact same pronunciation as ‘yu’ for _fish_. 
> 
> There's a reason why his one of his fandom nicknames is Whale, and the one of the nicknames for the pairing of these two is literally 'fish porridge'. (The nicer one is ‘universe.’)
> 
> There is just about no way to avoid having puns in a Chinese name – you learn to embrace the puns and pick the ones that don't sound as horrible.
> 
> * * *
> 
> The agent calls Dilraba 'sir' even though she's a woman - she's a female alpha - all alphas are considered/treated with male titles/roles, and all omegas are given female titles/roles. Because caste trumps 'gender'. Thus a male omega like He Jiong would be addressed with 'ma'am', a female alpha like Dilraba is addressed as 'sir'.


	4. Cao Avenue, Beijing, WEI

It felt like he was breaking the surface of a thick, heady pool, gasping for air. Time really had no meaning, just the fact that Jingyu was pulling away— Weizhou made little motions to keep him close, but the feeling of the break in skin contact was less heartrending and more just a change in sensation.

Xu Weizhou let his hand flop back down, and it took some time for him to realise that what was under his hand was not sheets. Or a bed. Or… well at least it wasn't carpet, though he wasn't entirely sure why that would have been a bad thing. His brain was sluggish enough that it took a full minute, almost, before he realised he was propped up on a couch's armrest, and that yes, this was a couch, the room looked vaguely familiar in the way that a new hotel room you woke up in was vaguely familiar, and that someone was pressing a cotton pad to his inner elbow.

"Hold still, please," said a stranger who smelled like soothing completely neutral synthetic lemons – medic? – and then stabbed him in the arm.

"Ow," Xu Weizhou said, and then looked down cross-eyed at the needle in his arm drawing out blood. "Was…" he coughed, his throat felt.. Raw, a little, and he swallowed to smoothen his voice, "that necessary?"

"Yes," the medic said, and with brisk efficient motions, she swapped out a new vial when the first was filled.

"Argh," Xu Weizhou said, and carefully looked away to see that Huang Jingyu was also getting the same treatment, sitting docilely on a different armchair and…

Looking back at him.

Intent, like nothing else in the world mattered – Xu Weizhou couldn't look away either, and he didn't even notice the medic pulling the needle out of his arm until she taped another cotton ball firmly to his arm.

"Alright, please stay hydrated and eat something," she told Xu Weizhou, and he nodded, not looking away from Huang Jingyu. "Something easy and gentle on the stomach."

If she had a different expression when she looked between them, Xu Weizhou didn't know, and didn't care – all he cared was that Huang Jingyu was not right there touching him.

"I'll cook something," Huang Jingyu said, and the medics nodded, made some vague affirmative noises— and there was some noise at the front door. Rustling, perhaps, but the most important noise was the door shutting, and Xu Weizhou could immediately situate himself back in Huang Jingyu's lap.

"Should cook," Huang Jingyu said, but he'd wrapped his arms around Xu Weizhou's waist and Xu Weizhou was perfectly happy to wriggle till he was comfortable.

In this case, comfortable meant as much skin-to-skin contact as possible, and tucking his face against Huang Jingyu's throat, so he could feel the rumble of Jingyu's voice against his jaw.

"Just eat rice," Xu Weizhou mumbled against Jingyu's neck.

"I'll feed you," Jingyu said, and if he sounded giddy about the prospect – Weizhou could understand it. He was giddy too, at the fact that broad calloused hands were running down his back, the way no one else had touched him for so long, drawing out a pleased almost-purr from his throat.

He didn't feel much of an urge to use words – not when Jingyu's hands travelled down, fingers tickling down over the curve and dip of his spine, thumbs rubbing over the point-and-flare of his hips, and he could arch his back, spread his own hands over the broad sweep of Jingyu's shoulders, glory in the fact that he could touch and feel the familiar flex and shift of muscle under the horribly, terribly _missed_ texture of Jingyu's skin, the warmth of him seeping in to his bones, so deep that he doubted he'd ever forget it again.

Could never do without it, again.

If it meant him arching like _this_ left him open for Jingyu's teeth to set against his throat, his neck, his shoulders— it was only right and deserved and _meant_ for him to have, to take, to keep.

He couldn't think of a better way to belong in the world, than to belong right here, within the circle of Jingyu's arms.

Couldn't think of a better way to exist, than to press close, grind against Jingyu's hardness, feel himself wet and open and ready and desperately _aching_ for him again.

And again, and again, like there was no point in breathing between except to catch one's breath so they could unite again.

"Drink, need to— drink," Jingyu gasped against his throat, and Weizhou didn't want to move, but he opened his mouth easily for whatever Jingyu put to his lips, and if it felt like him tipping his head back, mouth and throat open to accept everything Jingyu could give him was practically coming to life after a whole lifetime of thirst—

There were no other words to describe it, to believe.

Weizhou was perfectly happy to continue as they were, until something rumbled loudly between them.

They both paused in their motions, and he squinted down at his belly.

It rumbled again.

"... oh," Jingyu said, and then just lifted Weizhou up—

"Noooo," Weizhou said, immediately trying to clutch him closer.

"I will cook," Jingyu said firmly, and somehow he was standing _up_ , and Weizhou gently set on his feet. Weizhou immediately plastered himself to Jingyu's back, and somehow they ended up in the kitchen of the apartment, chill from cold tile seeping into his bare feet while Weizhou squinted at the things Jingyu was doing to the bag of groceries they'd found on the floor earlier.

Eggs and already cooked rice— something green and possibly tomatoes.

"No protein?" Weizhou murmured, and Jingyu rumbled something like laughter, and Weizhou could feel it against his chest, deep and almost bubbly.

"Eggs have plenty," Jingyu said, and did something magical with the soy sauce. It was an induction cooktop, so there wasn't any open flame to burn themselves on, but Weizhou carefully kept his hands around Jingyu's waist to keep his sensitive parts safe.

"Mmm," Weizhou said agreeably, and skimmed his teeth across the back of Jingyu's neck, gently setting his teeth right over the thick swell of his shoulder. Smiled when Jingyu made a noise.

At some point, Weizhou ended up on the counter, legs hooking around Jingyu's waist as Jingyu fed him – not that Weizhou could tell anyone anything about the taste – he was too busy luxuriating in the touch and scent of his mate. Of _Jingyu_ , warm and solid and alive, right there.

Then the dishes were discarded into the sink for them to forget till next year – or their next lifetime – and then Jingyu's hands were all over him again, and it didn't matter that they didn't leave the kitchen for a while.

Nothing caught fire – induction cooktops didn't use open flame after all.

Later, maybe a long while later, they'd made their way into a bedroom – there was a bed, sheets, and pillows and Weizhou could let himself be pinned down on that soft surface, grind up and then fasten his teeth to Jingyu's neck, right over that gland, and bite _down_.

That sound Jingyu made went straight to his belly, to the thick ball of _heat_ between his legs, and it was only matched when Jingyu did the same right back to him, settling something in him like Jingyu wasn't just pushing into him again.

Never to leave.

* * *

Ayanga and Zheng Yunlong were still in Shanghai, but almost a half day after Xu Weizhou was eliminated from Our Song, they posted on their individual Weibo:

>   
>  阿云嘎MUSICAL：最恐怖的事不是陌生人打给你，而是陌生人打给你的时候用一个不熟悉的方言一直喊你的名字。  
>  _AyangaMUSICAL: The scariest thing isn't to have strangers call you, but when the stranger calls you, they use an unfamiliar dialect to yell your name._
> 
> –卡布叻_周深：可是嘎子哥，他不是陌生人？？  
>  _Reply to AyangaMUSICAL: Kabutack_ZhouShen: but Gazi-ge, he isn't a stranger??_
> 
> 郑云龙DL：成都离重庆好远啊…  
>  _ZhengYunlongDL: Chengdu is so terribly far away from Chongqing…._

Their fans were a little confused by those out-of-context posts. But then, Ayanga and Zheng Yunlong had a tendency to post random things, so…

None of them would have connected it to the post on Xu Weizhou's social media several more hours later by Xu Weizhou's mother asking if any of his friends had seen him or heard from him.

She reported him missing at the twenty-four hour mark.

* * *

At some point they had a shower.

Or at least, Weizhou was in a shirt he wasn't entirely sure was his, normally dexterous fingers haphazardly trying to button it up as Huang Jingyu set up their phones.

He had had the vague idea that he should probably tell his fans _something_ and Jingyu had hit upon the idea of making a video announcing that they were together. Telling all their friends and family and fans at the same time.

An excellent idea!

If he situated himself back into Jingyu's lap as soon as his mate returned to the bed, it was alright, no one would be able to see below the chest from the angle of the phone's camera.

They'd managed to say the salient things – they were mated now, and fuck Shu – "No, do not fuck Shu, Zhouzhou." – and together and they'd get married as soon as they could find papers and a pen. Jingyu was about to upload the video to his Weibo when He Jiong walked in.

He took one look at them and snatched Jingyu's phone out of his hand.

Both Weizhou and Jingyu stared blankly at him.

"Hey," Jingyu started.

"Did you try to post anything," He Jiong said, and then stared at the video. "... You can't post _this_."

"Why not?" Weizhou said, and gasped when Jingyu leaned around him, trying to get his phone back, and they both went very still.

He Jiong was now staring at the ceiling.

"Go put on some more clothes," he said. "You're coherent enough now, you need to actually make a statement but not _like this_."

It was only when He Jiong made the move to tug Weizhou out of Jingyu's lap that Weizhou actually got off, even with extreme reluctance.

"But why not like this," he protested, over Jingyu's almost-growl. "It's fine—"

"You _do_ know that you're both banned from appearing on the same frame?" He Jiong said, somehow having found a pair of pants outside and shoved it into Weizhou's arms.

"I don't care," Weizhou said, almost snarling at the reminder. "All the better – Zhuge Liang can fucking _suck_ my—"

"No one _else_ ," Jingyu growled for real, and He Jiong made an exasperated noise, and shoved Weizhou out the bedroom.

"This would make it immensely political and probably something would impl— nevermind, just get out of the room and make a proper individual video—" He Jiong said.

Which resulted in He Jiong sitting Weizhou on the couch, while making faces that Weizhou didn't bother trying to interpret because Jingyu was all but whining in the bedroom that He Jiong had shut him in. He managed to make _his_ post, whatever He Jiong tried to make him say, and then He Jiong manhandled them both to swap places, and oh, Weizhou definitely didn't like it, being shut in the bedroom with Jingyu's scent but _no_ Jingyu, pacing around and around and desperately wanting to get back out to Jingyu, but He Jiong had somehow locked the bedroom door and he was reduced to pawing at the door.

Still, He Jiong let them back in together, and just that small time apart felt like two magnets being held apart. And as soon as the door opened both Weizhou and Jingyu crashed back together, like they couldn't be separate, not again.

".... Right," He Jiong said, but Weizhou wasn't paying attention. "I'll have to come back later, you both are _barely_ coherent, a complete drunk would be more likely allowed to sign a marriage cert than you two."

* * *

Three days after Xu Weizhou's mother had lodged a missing person's report about her son, Huang Jingyu posted a short video on his Weibo:

He was barely dressed, his shirt barely done up to the top two buttons, his throat and jaw covered in marks – the lighting wasn't great, so the dark mark up one side of his throat might almost be just a shadow.

Or a bruise.

He was mumbling, and thus someone had to add subtitles:

> 那一天我们吵架了。他说，快本把我们录的那一期删了，不能相信我们会在魏国找到安全，不能相信魏国能接受我们。我也没法说服他，他的语文天赋总是比我的好。我只能说，我在上海打工，我在北京等你。  
>  我等了三年七个月十六天。他终于在北京。我就回来北京。  
>  他等了我五个小时。五十年的赔偿，够吗？
> 
> _We fought that day. He said, Happy Camp cancelled that episode we recorded, he can't trust that we could find safety in Wei, didn't believe that Wei would accept us. I couldn't think of a way to tell him, to convince him, he'd always been better than me at words. I could only say, I’m working in Shanghai, I'll wait in Beijing for you. I waited…_

He looked away from the camera – someone snapped their fingers and Jingyu looked back at the camera.

> _I waited for three years seven months and sixteen days. He's finally in Beijing. So, I came back to Beijing._
> 
> _He waited for me for five hours. Fifty years is enough to pay him back for that, right?_

Not two minutes later, Xu Weizhou posted on _his_ Weibo, without answering the mess of increasing panic on his previous post:

A video of himself, extremely dishevelled, his hands in his hair, staring straight at the camera.

> 我爱他轰轰烈烈最疯狂。可是没有他，我真的疯了三年七个月十六天。我也不知道我这么久也没来，为什么没来，只是… 我现在好像是在曹植的家。客房？我不知道，我不管。有他在，我什么也不管，什么也不怕。  
>  我只想要守护他。我的大海。我的傻傻的鲸鱼。他没有金鱼的记忆，我说什么做什么他都记得。他看了我每一个视频，他的一部戏我也没看。我也不知道我在说什么。我只要说，我爱他，我不走了。
> 
> _I love him, truly, wildly, deeply, **madly** — but without him, I was truly insane for three years seven months and sixteen days. I don't know why I took so long to come, why I didn't come. Only… I seem to be in Cao Zhi's home. Guest apartment? I don't know, I don't care, he's here, as long as he's here, I'm not scared of **anything**. I only want to protect him. I have to, my Sea. My stupid, silly Whale. He doesn't have a goldfish's memory, whatever I'd ever done, ever said, he remembers all of it. He has watched every video I’m in, and I've never seen a single one of his films. I don't know what I'm saying anymore— I just want to say, I love him, I'm not **leaving**._

Two hours later, a fan who badgered the police at the police station in Shanghai posted that Xu Weizhou's mother had withdrawn the missing person's report.

* * *

In a seemingly unconnected series of Weibo postings, timestamped to several minutes after Xu Weizhou's video post:

何炅：我太难了。好累  
HeJiong: My life is so difficult; I'm so tired.

Dear-迪丽热巴：知道我做了好事，可是看了这结果，真想瞎了…  
Dear-Dilraba: I knew I did a good thing, but after seeing the result, I wish I was blind…

摩登兄弟刘宇宁：本来想问发生了什么事，上了微博，后悔自己的好奇心。请让我回到未知的时刻！！！  
ModernBrothersLiuYuning: at first I wanted to know what happened, went on Weibo, and now I regret my curiosity. IF ONLY I COULD RETURN TO MY INNOCENCE BEFORE!

彭昱畅：为啥人类有眼睛？？？？？早知道事情是这样就不费心了！！！  
PengYuchang : Why do people have eyes??? If I had known this was the situation I wouldn't have bothered with all that worry!!!

曹植：我好像忘了什么？  
CaoZhi: I seem to have forgotten something?

* * *

"We should really talk about this," Jingyu said after they both realised the bedsheets were probably unusable.

Before Weizhou could point out that it'd been quite a while since he'd done laundry by himself (he'd always just bundled up everything for the housekeeper to deal with when she came in once a week), Jingyu tugged him in and kissed his neck.

"Oh," Weizhou said. "About _this_."

"Yes," Jingyu said, and his hands moved down, and Weizhou shifted closer— then winced, because _ow_.

He had not even really noticed his body's limitations for the past… however long, but now his _everything_ was reminding him strenuously.

That included his abs. Especially now that he was more awake and aware, _breathing_ felt rather precarious on his abs and core muscles, never mind the stickiness and— everything else.

If he let his brain tick back to how many _times_ they'd…

He buried his face against Jingyu's shoulder. "Hnghn!"

He ought to be more sore than he was, but he almost definitely didn't want to get out of the horizontal position right now.

Jingyu patted his back – this time much higher up and very much more gingerly.

"Are… you alright? Sore?"

"How are you not actually chafing?" Weizhou asked Jingyu's collarbone.

"I'm very sore," Jingyu admitted, rather frankly, and he loved that frankness of Jingyu's, he really did, but the thought of how much they had to have done over the past… everything made him want to drown himself in bleach right now.

Three plus years of not dating (in _all_ aspects) had not prepared him for any of this.

"We should be dead, holyfuck," Weizhou said.

"I've never heard of anyone dying from too much sex," Jingyu said, his ears and neck going hot enough Weizhou could feel it on his forehead. "I think if it was the case I would be dead by now even before I got to meet you again."

Weizhou drew back just enough to stare at him.

Jingyu's mouth opened and shut like a goldfish.

"... I said nothing. _Please_ pretend I've said nothing," he said.

"I am," Weizhou said very slowly, "putting a pin on that, and returning to it… later."

"Right. Sure. Um. Anyway." Jingyu laughed awkwardly. "Do you want to marry me?" He blurted out. "I have enough money, so much money. I can support you!"

"You've bought enough of my albums to know that I can support myself," Weizhou said, and ignored the very strong twinge in his lower back to roll onto Jingyu's chest, plastering his hands on Jingyu's shoulders. "I can support _you_ , so you don't have to— to keep doing that for money!"

Jingyu's mouth opened again.

" _What_?!"

"I'm sorry I didn't come to you for three years," Weizhou said, forcing himself to keep his eyes on Jingyu's, and not wander to the Jingyu's earlobes.

Oh no, he had pierced ears. Did Wei also have that sort of Wu-like behaviour? It was worse, wasn't it, in Wei, because they'd gone completely feudal, and who knew what sort of weird historical practice they'd brought up?

Was there some rich asshole who was keeping Jingyu as a— a— boytoy or something? Was he going to have to punch a dick Alpha in the balls?

Weizhou couldn't help the huge surge of protectiveness in his chest: he _would_ punch an Alpha in the balls. He'd punch _every_ the Wei Alpha in the balls!

"I don't see how three years and—" Jingyu said, clearly trying to put two and two together.

"Who had been paying you for … _that_ , I'll go kill them," Weizhou promised.

"My agency?" Jingyu said.

"Your _agency_ pimped you out?"

Jingyu's jaw dropped. " _No!_ I didn't, I—" _he_ stopped, and something very dark and intent came into his gaze. "Did _you_ get p—"

"We're talking about you, not me, where did you get—"

"I did films and TV series? Those pay a ludicrous amount?" he said, and Jingyu's grip on Weizhou's hips tightened. "Did anyone try to touch _you_?"

Weizhou smacked at his wrists till his grip loosened. "...I think we're misunderstanding something. _I_ might have pierced ears but I didn't sell any favours—"

"—what has the ears have to do with—"

"And you have only been acting? No one has tried to do anything to you?"

Jingyu's eyes searched his, and Weizhou could _swear_ he saw something almost like realisation dawn. "No," he said after a moment. "No one's— Wei isn't like that. There're _laws_ against that. Acting really does pay that well, I could buy my parents an actual farm and still have plenty leftover. I _did_ buy my parents a farm."

"That's good," Weizhou said, relaxing, then had to reach up to bat at Jingyu's fingers that had gone up to touch his earlobes.

There was a question there but he wasn't going to answer it, not right now. He wasn't going to talk about the things that people did to survive in Wu's entertainment industry; his silly whale was too naive to understand, and Weizhou would vastly prefer his innocence to stay untouched.

Shu's own industry wasn't that much cleaner, but Jingyu had only acted in _Addicted_ , and not done anything else in Shu (not that Shu would have welcomed him, so…).

"So you'll… are you— would you want to marry me?" Jingyu asked, letting his hand drop to Weizhou's neck, cupping the back of his head, protectively, fingers brushing against that tender, sensitive spot of where he'd… He'd been marked, properly. Marked and bitten and _mated_.

Weizhou had to open his eyes from how they'd fallen shut and blink at him, rewinding the conversation to— "Oh. Yes. yes of _course_."

Jingyu's grin broke out in relief, as if he'd actually been worried that Weizhou would refuse, as if he didn't know that Weizhou had never been that strong, that at the first sign of panic at realisation he was in Beijing, he'd broken his own word to keep away from Jingyu to keep him safe and called Jingyu.

To think that he still _wanted_ him, after he'd made him wait for so long, that he still came running after one call, to Beijing…

"... we're in Beijing," Weizhou said.

"Yes," Jingyu said and then blinked. "... We're in _Beijing_."

They stared at each other.

"Aren't I supposed to be in Changsha?" Jingyu said.

"How many appointments did I miss with my agent?" Weizhou didn't exactly shriek.

They both dived for their phones.

* * *

On Huang Jingyu's Weibo, he posted:

>   
>  JOHNNY黄景瑜：诶，我不是在拍戏吗？  
>  _JOHNNYHuangJingyu: Eh, wasn't I filming?_
> 
> –Dear-迪丽热巴：是啊  
>  _Reply to JOHNNYHuangJingyu: Dear-Dilraba: Yup._
> 
> —JOHNNY黄景瑜：我欠了多少人情，欠了多少钱？？？？  
>  _Reply to Dear-Dilraba: JOHNNYHuangJingyu: How pissed off is everyone, how much money do I owe?????_
> 
> —Dear-迪丽热巴：当众面前让我狠狠地揍你一次就够了。  
>  _Reply to JOHNNYHuangJingyu: Dear-Dilraba: Let me beat you really hard in front of everyone, should be enough._
> 
> —JOHNNY黄景瑜：值。  
>  _Reply to Dear-Dilraba: JOHNNYHuangJingyu: Worth it._
> 
> –许魏洲ZZ：魏国是不是用不一样的日历？？？？？  
>  _Reply to JOHNNYHuangJingyu: XuWeizhouZZ: Wei doesn't even use the same calendar does it????_
> 
> —何炅： 洲洲，亲爱的，魏国没你想像中这么夸张。  
>  _Reply to XuWeizhouZZ: HeJiong: Zhouzhou, sweetie, Wei isn't as extreme as you imagine it to be._
> 
> —许魏洲ZZ：我去。死了。  
>  _Reply to HeJiong: XuWeizhouZZ: FML. I'm dead._

On Xu Weizhou's Weibo he posted :

>   
>  许魏洲ZZ：最近我学了：  
>  _XuWeizhouZZ: Recently I've learned:_
> 
> 1\. 北京好多树。  
>  _1\. Beijing has a lot of trees._
> 
> 2\. 我的偶像关注了我。  
>  _2\. My idol noticed me._
> 
> 3\. 我好想揍我的偶像。  
>  _3\. I **really** want to punch my idol._
> 
> 4\. 我有了个未婚夫？？？？  
>  _4\. I have a future husband??? Fiance???_
> 
> 5\. 我应该是明天就嫁人了？？？？  
>  _5\. I appear to be getting married out tomorrow????_
> 
> 6\. 未婚夫的家人明天就到，要迎接他们，可是我搞不清楚自己在哪儿，我们在哪儿？？？？  
>  _6\. My fiance's family are arriving tomorrow and we have to go receive them but I don't even know where the hell I am, where are we?!?!_
> 
> 7\. 北京真的好多树。  
>  _7\. Beijing REALLY has a lot of trees…_
> 
> 8\. 这楼有几层，我跳得下去吗？不是自尽，是要搞清楚自己的位置。  
>  _8\. How many floors is this apartment complex, can I jump down? Not for suicide, i just want to know how high the fuck I am._
> 
> 9\. 我真的很喜欢🐳:whale:。可是为啥我们第一次正正经经的说话是我问他卖艺时有没有卖身？为什么？？？？？？？？而且他为什么还是求婚？？？？？？（众人所知：他没有。）  
>  _9\. I really, REALLY like Whale 🐳:whale.emoji: But why is the first coherent conversation we had me asking whether he prostituted himself for work? Why???? And he STILL proposed to me? FML. (FYI: he didn’t.)_
> 
> _10\. . 我们俩的确疯了。（啊，到第十了，可以停了。）  
>  _10\. We are really bonkers. (Ah, it's number 10 now, I can stop.)__
> 
> __（真的不想考虑事业。肯定完了。）  
>  _I really don't want to think about work. I'm definitely screwed.__ _
> 
> __–JOHNNY黄景瑜：十是个好号码。  
>  _Reply to XuWeizhouZZ: JOHNNYHuangJingyu: Ten is a good number.__ _
> 
> __–何炅：这么快就不崇拜他了啊？  
>  _Reply to XuWeizhouZZ: HeJiong: Got over your idol worship really quick huh?__ _
> 
> __—许魏洲ZZ：想揍。  
>  _Reply to HeJiong: XuWeizhouZZ: Really want to punch him.__ _
> 
> __–Dear-迪丽热巴：小朋友你是否有多少个问号。  
>  _Reply to XuWeizhouZZ: Dear-Dilraba: Yo, friend, you seem like you have a lot of questions.__ _
> 
> __—许魏洲ZZ：怀疑人生。  
>  _Reply to Dear-Dilraba: XuWeizhouZZ: Questioning my entire life._  
>  _ _

_  
_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chinese basically by Evocates; I couldn't not include them, because there are subtle differences between the Chinese and even the English translation, so here are some easter eggs for our Chinese readers! 
> 
> I don't have access to Weibo or WeChat so I can only approximate the formatting for it. 
> 
> >.>
> 
> * * *
> 
> Chongqing and Chengdu while in the same country Shu, are far enough apart that the dialect Sichuanese have some differences that, when XWZ was crying hysterically in it, was too fast and slurred for Ayg to understand, even if he had been learning Sichuanese from ZYL.


	5. Beijing City, WEI

"You're a Favourite now," He Jiong said, in a completely different living room. 

They were now sitting in another apartment, because the one that Weizhou and Jingyu had been in when they had roused from their… haze was now essentially a biohazard, and it had taken them absolutely zero coaxing to move. 

How many apartments were in this entire building? Weizhou had no idea, and didn't quite know whether he should ask. 

He recognised He Jiong – he'd _met_ He Jiong once, in 2016, during that one Happy Camp episode they'd recorded, and thereafter he'd seen He Jiong only on his phone or on TV, since he'd not gone back to Wei in the interim. 

Yet it felt perfectly normal and comfortable for the older omega to be sitting right here like he was going to give them the Talk. 

Possibly because it had to be him – He Jiong was apparently one of the oldest Favourites in Wei? 

"I'm not," Weizhou said. "Surely it's _Jingyu_ who is." 

Because he wasn't _Wei_. And yes Cao Zhi had noticed him alright, and kidnapped him all the way to Wei for … Cao Zhi reasons, and Weizhou could handwave all of it because it was _Cao Zhi_. 

"Don't handwave Zijian's doings away," He Jiong said, as if he was reading Weizhou's mind. "He truly did notice you, as you've noted on your Weibo post, and now he's decided you're going to perform in the Cao Concert." 

Weizhou blinked politely at him. 

"Zhouzhou comes under Cao Zhi's banner then?" Jingyu said. 

"... what has the Cao Concert got to do with it," Weizhou said. 

"That's what he should have brought up with you the very first time he spoke to you," He Jiong said. "Well, first he should have spoken to _me_ then I could have contacted you and made everything a lot easier on you both. On Zijian's behalf, I apologise profusely." 

Both Jingyu and Weizhou almost flailed the coffee table over when He Jiong got up to _bow_ at them, his long sleeves almost catching at the corner of the table. 

"He-laoshi, that's not necessary!" Jingyu cried, while Weizhou tried not to wonder when the fuck he'd ended up in some sort of historical drama. 

He had remembered very little of the journey from the airport to these apartments, but he was very sure that the suited not-James-bonds outside had been wearing _suits_ , not wuxia jianghu ninja costumes and most definitely not touting swords. 

He Jiong turning up in long sleeves as if he'd walked straight out of some sort of Palace Drama had surprised him, but this was Wei, and Jingyu was at his side, making He Jiong sit back down on the couch. Since the world had ceased making sense, why wouldn't people turn up like they came straight out of the Han Dynasty?

"Believe me when I say that Zijian is going to get severely reprimanded for being so reckless and negligent," He Jiong said, using Cao Zhi's nickname as if he was talking about a very naughty child. 

"Pretty sure he didn't do anything out of character," Weizhou said. "It's _Cao Zhi_." 

"And like I've said, don't excuse anything just because it's Zijian. He's a grown man, he can take responsibility for his things, instead of kidnapping people and leaving them around the landscape like so many abandoned groceries." 

He-laoshi had just essentially called Weizhou a lost bag of eggs. He would take exception but everything was just a bit too surreal. 

"Yes but— again, I'm not Wei," Weizhou said, "Favourites are Wei." 

"Zhouzhou is definitely talented enough to be—" Jingyu said, and went quiet when Weizhou patted his thigh. 

"Yes, you're right," He Jiong said, "Favourites _are_ Wei." 

He drew out a sheaf of papers from his thankfully Western-style briefcase and put it in front of Weizhou. 

He stared down at the forms. 

"... Change of _citizenship_ papers?" 

"It would take a while for it to go through," He Jiong said, "And your parents can choose whether they'd like to come back to Wei." 

Weizhou blinked at him. "Back..?" 

"Your name isn't an accident," He Jiong said, smiling very faintly, "Is it?" 

"How… How did you know that?" Weizhou said, eyes widening. Just a little. 

The 'wei' in his name was the exact same character for the country of Wei; Chinese history was long enough that places and provinces had changed names over the various dynasties, and he'd told curious teachers since he was young that it was a reference to the Warring States because his parents were history nerds. 

But that wasn't it; he had no extended family, because his parents had fled southwest in the Civil War, and though they had settled in Chengdu, they had always thought of Shaanxi, the province of their origin, as their home.

Couple that with his surname – Xu, to allow, and Zhou, province, he had known ever since he'd figured out how to read between the literal written words that his parents had always wanted to go home. 

(It was not entirely a surprise how easily they had moved down to Shanghai just because he'd asked. They had had very few roots in the country of Weizhou's birth.) 

"We did do a little research on you," He Jiong said, "though this ought to have been done _before_ anyone triggered both of you into this mess." 

Weizhou stared at He Jiong's kindly smile. "That's a lot of research," he said. There had been rumours, about the Favourites of Wei, which had been that they were basically evidence of feudal nepotism, but he'd never been sure what to think of them, because they had the talent anyway. Just the good fortune and luck to come to a Cao's notice, for whatever reason. 

But he remembered hearing a very small, unsubstantiated rumour, that somehow, the Favourites were also involved in the government. Or a secret service of some sort. He'd paid almost zero attention to it, because Wei and their Favourites had had nothing to do with him and his small (multitude of) personal issues. 

Now, he was wondering if he should’ve listened more carefully.

"Logistics," He Jiong said, flicking his fingers lightly. "Not my department." 

"Do I," Weizhou said after a long moment of wondering about Hong Kong's _Infernal Affairs_ and their extensively dramaticized triad movies, and how they probably _weren't_ overly dramatic, "want to ask what is your department?" 

"Intake," He Jiong said brightly, and laughed at the looks on both their faces. "No, I'm just the mentor. The newest Favourite usually is… mm, eased into it by an older, or more experienced Favourite. It's a duty that usually falls to me as Zijian's oldest Favourite to try and ease the transition for the newcomers. You've seen what Zijian's recruitment strategy is like. It's rather…" 

"Traumatic," Weizhou said. 

"Yes, that. He's not supposed to do the recruiting." 

Cao Zhi probably wasn't supposed to talk to unprepared civilians, Weizhou didn't say. "Recruiting is one way of calling 'kidnapping'," he said drily. 

"Quite," He Jiong said cheerfully. "In any case, now that you're Zijian's, I took the liberty of talking to your agent to start the process of transferring you to our Company." 

"... you what," Weizhou said. 

And then He Jiong explained. 

The Favourites all were managed by the same Wei Company, no matter what it was they did. Yes, that included the ones who were research scientists too. That Company, _The_ Company, was essentially an arm of the government that kept them safe, watered, fed and sane. His own agent and manager back in Wu would be given the opportunity to transfer up north, if they wanted but… 

Weizhou had a feeling they would vastly rather stay in Shanghai. 

Well. 

He was used to having to work with a new agent and manager. It wasn't the first time he'd been abandoned by his crew. 

A new crew in Wei, considering he had a feeling this was an offer he couldn't refuse, meant that they'd at least know how to deal with Wei's weird and byzantine habits. So that was a bright side. He was going to keep _that_ in mind. 

"You could transfer to the Company too," He Jiong said to Jingyu. "This whole mess was caused by Zijian's negligence..." 

"I'm not a Favourite," Jingyu said, shaking his head. "This mess isn't Cao Zhi-laoshi's fault, it is mine. I walked off my own set, and dropped my responsibilities on others." 

Weizhou's heart all but melted, going goopy and sappy inside. "Jingyu—" 

"Shh, it's my responsibility," Jingyu said, turning to Weizhou. "What I've done, I'll fix. It's fine." 

Jingyu caught Weizhou's hands, pulling him close. 

"有担当，负责任," He Jiong murmured. _One who would take responsibility_. "What irony." 

The same phrase that Weizhou had said in interviews when he'd been asked about his ideal partner. He hadn't been thinking of anyone in particular but… 

He glanced away from Jingyu to He Jiong. But He Jiong wasn't mocking; he looked thoughtful. 

"Alright, if that's what you want," He Jiong said, "but we can help if necessary." 

"It won't be," Jingyu said; he hadn't looked away from Weizhou for one second. His intense stare at Weizhou was _breathtaking_. 

"I'll take care of Zhouzhou. I promise."

* * *

Weizhou had several weeks ahead of him to come to terms with the fact that his winding up in Wei had effectively ended his career in Wu, and now there was a whole load of uncertainty to deal with. 

He had never _met_ Huang Jingyu's parents, before, but He Jiong had already set up the appointment with the Registry of Marriages, and the first time he was going to meet Jingyu's parents was at the office, because He Jiong's – or was it Cao Zhi's? Someone's! – not-at-all-James Bond agents were going to go pick them up from the airport and convey them straight over. 

This was, apparently, Just How Things Went, in Wei. 

If you were a Cao Favourite. 

Certainly He Jiong had seemed matter-of-fact about it, and Jingyu seemed to take it all in stride so maybe it was a Wei thing. 

The walking out amongst the trees was getting a bit old though. His frantic need to constantly hold onto Jingyu was… well, dying down. However many days of extremely physical _reunion_ had definitely convinced him of Jingyu's … definitive solidity, and while he was fairly sure he'd never get sick of Jingyu's touch, and his scent, his everything, he didn't actually want to stay in these apartments. 

They were very nice apartments! But they felt more like the hotel rooms that he'd wander around Shanghai in, and not at all like a place he could see his Jingyu look comfortable in. 

(They might have enough space for his multitude of guitars, and there was at least one room in each apartment that could be set up as a music studio, but there certainly wasn't space for the huge pile of soft-toys he'd accumulated over the years.) 

Once they got the cert signed, Weizhou decided, he would just live with Jingyu. 

Living in the middle of a forest, next door to Cao Zhi was fine enough for creativity and composition, but it was hardly great for takeaway and groceries. Right?

* * *

Weizhou's parents assured him that they'd managed to bring him the entirety of his bank account's balance. The nice deep-voiced young man on the phone had guaranteed that yes, Wei did use renminbi as well, and it didn't need to be exchanged. 

Weizhou had poked around the food delivery app on Jingyu's phone, and had been reassured that yes they did use RMB, so his panic over being _penniless_ was a little unfounded. The credit card thing, though, might have been iffy, especially if it's the first time being used in Wei, so his actual funds being brought over as a cheque was much appreciated. 

They liked Jingyu – they still remembered him from almost all those years ago (how could they not, Weizhou remembered his mother mentioning him every so often) and weren't surprised about him getting married to Jingyu. 

(At least, that's what they said.)

 _Jingyu's_ parents, though, were rather confused and surprised. 

One of Jingyu's younger siblings – a sister only one year younger than him – boldly asked him, straight out, "Are you an omega then?" 

"Uh," Weizhou had said, taken aback. "No?" 

"Sometimes Wu omegas are listed as betas on their Baidu," she'd said, "which is weird but I heard it's a way to hide from creepy American foreigners." 

Weizhou thought about the foreigners he'd actually met and didn't laugh at the girl – "I'm more afraid of Shu Alphas than Americans," he said. 

"Really? You're still too pretty to be a beta," she pointed out, until Jingyu shooed her away. 

Jingyu's parents had brought just the one sister, the rest of Jingyu's siblings were still at school or something, Weizhou heard. 

And they stared a lot at Weizhou – he had a feeling that Jingyu had _never_ mentioned him to his parents. For which, to be honest, Weizhou had only himself to blame. Jingyu's mother seemed willing to accept him as a son-in-law, but his father was just a bit colder. Maybe it was because Jingyu was leaving their family registry for Weizhou's, but Weizhou had a feeling it was because of how much Jingyu had _hurt_ all these years because of Weizhou. 

They couldn't _really_ stay very long, only a couple of days because they _did_ have a farm to run, but the newlyweds'd be able to have a big dinner with both their parents, and they _didn't even have rings._

Jingyu… Jingyu had sounded so surprised at the idea of _rings_ that Weizhou realised it was another Wei thing. Wei didn't do rings— he… 

Did they even do the wedding ceremony and banquet and the white dress and everything? 

(Was he going to have to Baidu it?) 

"I want," Weizhou said, as they went back to the cars that He Jiong's James-bond super spy men had for them, "to live with you. In Beijing proper, not a forest," he quickly clarified before Jingyu could protest that he already was in Beijing. 

He caught Jingyu's hand, squeezing his fingers in his, and Jingyu's brain visibly stuttered. 

Couldn't blame him, Weizhou couldn't help the shivery warmth at feeling Jingyu's broad, calloused palms against his, the way his hands fit and locked against his own like a lock and key, sliding home and close. 

"I'm. Living in Changsha right now?" Jingyu said, weakly. 

"You're _filming_ in Changsha," Weizhou said, "so you're living in a trailer. But you have a Beijing apartment, I'll stay there. With _you_." 

If he took a step closer, and planted his face against Jingyu's shoulder, he was definitely doing this on purpose, to convince his husband – his _husband!_ Legally! Like, he'd actually signed an official paper in _traditional calligraphy_ , with his name printed in _traditional writing_ marking them as married – to let him move in with him.

(Granted it wasn't, apparently, as He Jiong had said, complete quite yet, since they were still going to sort out Weizhou's citizenship, and his household registry. Weizhou's parents had been adamant that Weizhou had to start his _own_ household registry, and Jingyu had been perfectly willing to be added to Weizhou's, and Weizhou would have to figure out all the ramifications, but they had time to deal with it, because He Jiong would take care of it.) 

Jingyu swallowed, his eyes glazing over just a little as Weizhou _nuzzled_. 

"... the apartment He-laoshi gave you isn't enough?" 

"It's temporary housing," Weizhou said. And far too close to Cao Zhi. "And I don't wanna live in a hotel anymore." 

He didn't want to live in a big place that wasn't imbued with his husband's thoughts and touch and personality – he knew that housing in Beijing's city centre would be difficult to match his extremely large apartment in Shanghai, but that didn't matter. 

Jingyu made a small noise, high in his throat. 

Someone cleared their throat behind them. "The car's ready," they said, very calmly, and Jingyu all but bundled Weizhou into the seat. 

So Weizhou climbed into Jingyu's lap, and he could _feel_ Jingyu's protests die.

* * *

It was very easy to see why Jingyu was so reluctant to show him his apartment.

From the outside, the narrow walls had looked like every wall he'd seen of Beijing so far, old brick and older cement, though he'd seen patches of both crawling plants that seemed to reinforce the walls, and slaps of newer concrete to keep brick in place. 

The door into the small yard was sun-faded and peeling, and still didn't look so bad, and Weizhou wasn't even sure Jingyu _needed_ to keep his arm around Weizhou's shoulders so protectively just to walk into this winding street (it wasn't so narrow that they couldn't walk comfortably side-by-side, even if the car had to stop at the mainstreet, unable to turn in).

He remained unsure right until Jingyu briefly let go of him to unlock the rattly glass-and-aluminum door off to the side of that small yard. 

A small glass and aluminum door that he had initially dismissed as some sort of garden _shed_ until Jingyu pushed it open, and gestured, hesitant and almost aborted, at the dark interior. 

It… 

_Technically_ had everything that a rented 'apartment' ought to have. 

The wall blocked the view of the single, metal-framed bed and its thin mattress, so that was some measure of privacy, though it meant that the small rickety desk was wedged between the sole window and the bed in order to afford that. 

The room was small enough that there was no other space to place the wardrobe except right where it was, half blocked by the bedframe's headboard, in order to not obstruct the tiny doorway that was leading to, Weizhou realised with dawning horror, a tiny bathroom that was actually smaller than the zip-up wardrobe. 

The last time he'd seen a wardrobe like _that_ was during the filming of _Addicted_ , when Jingyu's character Gu Hai had rented a place in the slums of Chengdu in order to both be closer to Weizhou's character, and to refuse to take the charity from his rich asshole father. 

The slums of Chengdu had looked _nothing_ like this, with its closed, almost claustrophobic tiny staircases and tiny apartments stacked on top of each other in grotty, grimy blocks. Gu Hai's apartment in the slums had had no window, for one. 

But somehow the atmosphere here felt the _same_.

He only realised he'd fisted his hand against his mouth when Jingyu gently tugged his hand down, nervously curling his fingers over Weizhou's wrist. 

"It's not that bad," Jingyu said, clearly trying to downplay what Weizhou was slowly realising, with dawning horror, just how Jingyu had been living. 

"Is this your— is this where you'd been living, all these years?" Weizhou asked, looking at the desk – there was only one power-outlet, and a tiny two-plug power-strip attached to it… and a longer power-strip plugged into _that_ one, and his brain had a tiny little shriek about _fire_. Especially with what looked like a small hot-plate plugged into the second power-strip. "How is this _not that bad_?" 

"I don't spend so much time in it, I just need somewhere to sleep when I'm between jobs in Beijing," Weizhou's husband said, and when Weizhou _looked_ up at him, Jingyu smiled at him, pulled him close and kissed him tenderly on the forehead. 

Just yesterday that would have been enough to distract Weizhou thoroughly. 

But this time the intimacy was not enough to overwhelm the horror.

 _Addicted's_ film budget had been very small, hence requiring all of the main actors to share living arrangements during filming. He had _thought_ the slum housing that they'd rented for the show had been reflective of that budget too, with the crew themselves coming in to help filthy up the place carefully. It had been a condemned lot of buildings, probably for being too unsafe for actual habitation. The whole set had been selected just for the contrast between Gu Hai's home with his rich asshole father and Bai Luoyin's poverty-stricken district. He'd _thought_ it was exaggerated for the purposes of TV.

The only _difference_ between that film set, he realised with something that tasted like hysteria, and this tiny single-room _shed_ , besides the fact that there were no stairs, was that this was _clean_. 

Not even cockroaches or rats would live here – and yes that was hysteria now, bubbling up at the back of his throat – because this wasn't even good enough for them to live in, much less a _person_!

"Jingyu, I—" he said, and choked, and Jingyu immediately hugged him close, tucking his face in against his neck like that would hide the stark, horrible truth of his living situation from Weizhou. 

"It's really not that bad," Jingyu said, as reassuring as he could. "The neighbourhood—" 

"This is just as bad as the Chengdu _slums_ ," Weizhou all but cried out. 

"The neighbourhood is much better," Jingyu said, soothingly. "When I'm actually around, I help out the families around here, and I live only by myself." 

Weizhou pulled away to look Jingyu in the eyes. "By _yourself_?" 

That more than implied the _other_ small doors he'd seen in the small yard weren't just for single renters like Jingyu. But more. 

There were _families_ living like this? In tiny rooms like this? And Beijing regularly got _colder_ than Chengdu. Definitely colder than Shanghai. Were the walls even thick enough to keep heat in? How many people _died_ every winter? 

"I used to share when I worked odd jobs in Shanghai," Jingyu said, and if anything proved that being married didn't confer telepathy, this was complete and ultimate proof, "I'd have a place that was shared with three others, and we'd take turns to use the bed." 

Like the horror stories of Chinese immigrants in _America._

Weizhou could see in his mind's eye his _own_ Shanghai apartment, with its multiple _bedrooms_ , one room specifically for all the soft-toys and instruments he'd collected, its own kitchen he _didn't use_ —

And outside this tiny one-bedroom place, he'd noted a faucet in the middle of the yard. 

He had thought, in passing, it was just a little water-source for attaching a hose, maybe, to water the few potted plants he'd seen dotting the yard. 

It was, he realised, with _shame_ , just like the shared communal faucet in the Chengdu _slum_ that they'd filmed in. The same communal _outdoor_ faucet that he as Bai Luoyin had used to brush his teeth in the morning. 

"Lao po?" Jingyu said, nerves and uncertainty colouring his voice. "... Xifu'r?" Jingyu's hands carefully cupped his face, fingers tracing his hairline, like he was afraid Weizhou would shatter. 

Or burst into tears. 

Weizhou _felt_ like he was going to burst into tears. 

"Is your company— are you not being paid at all?" Weizhou asked. Had he spent it all to buy his parents and siblings that farm to support them, and now he was living in conditions _worse_ than the fictional depiction of _Addicted_ , to save… up? 

He hadn't thought that Wei would pay their actors _so_ badly – he knew how much actors got in Wu, far more than being paid for appearances on variety shows and much more stable if one had the talent to act convincingly on camera. 

Or was it a lot more like Shu, where the lack of a degree meant hitting a wage ceiling, at some point, unless one was _immensely_ popular?

Jingyu had _said_ he could support him, that he had plenty of money but— if he did, _why was he living like this_? 

"O-oh. Right—" Jingyu let go of him, and hurried to the desk's one drawer – it didn't even lock, and with the desk right by the window, anyone could reach in and steal…. 

But what would they want to steal from _here_? The literal fire hazard attached to the one power-point on the wall? The tiny hot plate sitting on the floor underneath it? 

And then Jingyu handed him a booklet, and it took a moment before he parsed the words on it. It was a bankbook. 

And inside—

The sheer number of digits in front of the decimal point was too many for him to even _comprehend_. 

"Is this even in renminbi?" 

Jingyu nodded. 

When Weizhou kept staring at him, Jingyu added, "Y- yes? Is it not …. It's enough. It's definitely enough—" 

Unless real estate was astronomical in price, Weizhou thought, except Beijing and Wei in general _didn't_ have the sheer population density that Shanghai had, to the point he'd once heard that Wu had been considering making their unofficial one-child policy official, there was no reason for Jingyu to be living in a place like this. 

Maybe land in the actual city proper Beijing was hideously expensive, but if the numbers were correct, Jingyu could buy three _apartments_ in _Shanghai_. 

With the same floor plan as Weizhou's own apartment. 

"... are you… able to _buy_ the entire land _here_?" Weizhou said. "This entire _district_?" 

"Well no," Jingyu said, "I'm not a real estate… person? And I don't have the right expertise to do that? Or even the license? Beijing is tightly regulated, to keep the population down." His tone was matter-of-fact, like he was quoting something, maybe even something he'd learned in school. Primary school, or secondary, since when they'd first met Jingyu had said quite cheerfully he'd gotten his secondary school certificate and had no intention of going higher, much less to university. 

Jingyu kept looking at him, and not… not adding anything more helpful and Weizhou had thought the worst part of seeing this was the fact that his husband – beloved, eager, gentle and silly – had been underpaid and taken advantage of by predatory companies. 

"You could have rented a bigger apartment," Weizhou said. 

"What's the point? This is good enough," Jingyu said. 

Ah, Weizhou thought very faintly, very distantly, thoughts just barely able to form _coherently_. Because shame and castigation was welling up, and threatening to overwhelm him. 

His husband had _chosen_ to stay like this. Live like this. Because there had been no _point_ in treating himself better. 

Because Weizhou had not come to him. 

Because the last thing he'd said to Jingyu was no, he was a liar, he had been wrong, and there was nowhere safe for them, and thus… Thus...

This was _Weizhou's_ fault. 

He burst into tears. 

He managed to calm down enough to form words, especially with Jingyu panicking at the sight of him crying.

"Pack— pack your things, we'll live in Cao Zhi-laoshi's apartments till we buy a place," Weizhou managed through the tears – angry and upset and a tumultuous ball of everything _else_. 

He wanted to throw everything out. He wanted to take Jingyu with him, just like this, abandon everything _here_ with the fire-hazard power points, and the crinkly, faded, zip-up wardrobe and the tiny, barely-there, bathroom. Just leave all this behind because Weizhou would do anything to fix this, to provide everything that Jingyu could need. 

But what right did he have to demand anything of Jingyu, after what he'd done? So much so that Jingyu thought he _deserved_ nothing better? 

"I don't blame you, Xifu'r," Jingyu hastened to say, trying to wipe the tears from Weizhou's cheeks. "I said as much, didn't I? 如果你回来，晚一点也没关系." 

_Even if you're a little late, as long as you come back, everything doesn't matter._. 

And Weizhou hiccuped, sobs breaking out _harder_. Because that just meant that his husband, his gorgeous, talented, beloved husband, had so little self-esteem that he thought Weizhou could do _anything_ and Jingyu himself would deserve nothing more than scraps. 

"It won't take so long," Jingyu said anxiously. "Most of my things are in Changsha, I'll only be ten minutes—" 

Ten minutes to pack the meagre possessions in this tiny apartment. 

"I have to go outside," Weizhou choked. "I'll. I'll wait outside for you." 

"But—” 

"I'll wait outside." 

And he stumbled out, tearing away from Jingyu's arms and made himself stand, in the courtyard, in full sight of that window while he made himself face the tiny cold breeze to dry the tears on his face. 

When had Jingyu even _said_ that? He checked his WeChat messages, but he'd all but memorized them all, and if Jingyu had said that in any of the messages, he would have… 

(What would he have done?) 

Jingyu wouldn't lie – Jingyu wasn't the type. Therefore he _had_ said it, he'd said it at one point, but it must have been during one of his many interviews, or one of his concerts or public appearances promoting his films or television series, or even during that one time he was filming in Shanghai and… 

Weizhou had refused to see him. 

Weizhou had refused to look at any of his footage online, because he hadn't wanted to allow himself to soften his own resolve. (He had been trying to protect Jingyu…)

And thus, he thought, fingers freezing on the cold glass of his phone's screen, this was why Jingyu was like _this._ Forever frozen and arrested in place, waiting for the person he loved to come back.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cao Zhi (曹植) is Zijian (子建). Everyone knows who Zijian is, in this industry, but no one has the _right_ to use it other than his siblings… and He Jiong. 
> 
> He Jiong is a very special Favourite, to Cao Zhi. That is why he can use the nickname, even in conversation with Xu Weizhou, but XWZ does not use it at all.
> 
> * * *
> 
> *coughs*
> 
> * * *
> 
>  _Addicted_ was, in RL, filmed in Beijing. In this Wei AU, it was filmed in Chengdu, being a Shu production. thus the chengdu slums that the character Bai Luoyin lived in (and Gu Hai rented) looked a little like here: 
> 
> https://chengdu-expat.com/visa-free-transit-in-chengdu/chengdu_expat_chengdu4/
> 
> Meanwhile, the place that Jingyu lives in, in this fic, at this point of time is: 
> 
> https://youtu.be/y8zEgMJRkHA?list=PLBLuw7P_RGaQidvKexMqE3QyhJ5238vwy&t=652 (play at this point, you can see just what it looks like down to the zip-up wardrobe)


	6. Beijing, WEI to Changsha, WU

"Do I call you, or my manager," Weizhou asked as soon as He Jiong picked up, "for a real estate agent? I checked the laws for buying a place and it is too much to understand." 

"You saw Jingyu's apartment?" He Jiong said. For someone with Zhouzhou's background and temperament, it wasn't a surprise that the boy had just straight up panicked and dragged Jingyu straight out. 

Wei had its own fair share of issues, and no one would deny that the living standards of certain areas in even Beijing proper was horrible. 

But He Jiong knew that the Caos were working to fix it – it was an institutional problem, and a structural problem beyond the reach of any one individual like He Jiong or Zhouzhou could fix on their own. 

Zhouzhou took a deep, quavering breath. "Yes." 

"I'll alert your manager," He Jiong said, "Just send him your specifications and price range, and he'll liaise with a real estate agent for you." 

"Thank you," Zhouzhou said, clearly about to hang up and possibly go cry in a corner again. 

"Crying so much isn't good for the baby," He Jiong said, gently. 

"... the _what_ ," Zhouzhou said. 

"The … did you not use the pregnancy tests I sent over?" He Jiong asked in mild surprise. 

The silence on the phone was dead enough that He Jiong had to check that the line was still connected. 

"Male betas can't have babies," Weizhou said flatly. 

Shu, Zhouzhou was from Shu, He Jiong was abruptly reminded. "Our Prime Minister would be rather surprised to find out that his children don't exist," He Jiong said mildly. 

"That's different. He has an Alpha husband," Zhouzhou said, before He Jiong could also remind him of Cao Ang – though maybe Cao Ang wasn't prominent enough in Wu for Zhouzhou to take note of. 

"Male betas can definitely impregnate another male beta," He Jiong said, and waited for that little grunt that said Zhouzhou was biting back his very Wu habit of blurting out _"bullshit"_ in English. 

"He-laoshi," Zhouzhou said after clearly struggling for another two moments. "Male betas _do not_ get—" 

"Did you get your period?" 

Zhouzhou choked. "He-laoshi! That isn't—!" 

"I'm older than you and have had children almost your age, Zhouzhou," He Jiong said cheerfully, while Zhouzhou sputtered on the phone. Shu and Wu citizens had the impression that just because Wei was more … modest than them, that they wouldn't speak frankly about sex. 

Zhouzhou was no exception. 

"I didn't get a _heat_ ," Zhouzhou said, dropping his voice into a little whisper that had He Jiong imagining he was now actually hiding in the corner of the apartment. 

He Jiong wasn't going to be that much of a busybody as to check the cameras; he was not that young Wang Xi, Cao Jie's indulged and beloved definitely-not-at-all-a-Favourite, who liked to play at being a super spy. 

"So there is no pe— none of that." 

"It is very worrisome that you're so shy of the right terminology," He Jiong said. "I'll let the doctor know so he can prepare the appropriate educational materials." 

Zhouzhou squeaked at him and hung up.

* * *

WeChat:

> HeJiong: did you get the materials the doctor sent? No thanks necessary. :)  
>  Zz: .  
>  ZZ: yes i did  
>  HeJiong: on a more serious note: has Jingyu been smoking around you? Or drinking?  
>  Zz: …. Jingyu doesn't smoke?  
>  HeJiong: Ah. Keep an eye on him anyway.  
>  Zz: why?  
>  HeJiong: if he starts to shake or have withdrawal symptoms, alert your doctor.  
>  Zz: why?  
>  Zz: what happened? Is he  
>  Zz: oh. God.

* * *

Weizhou was in Changsha with his husband when he received another package sent by He-laoshi. 

One of the other Favourites on the WeChat group he'd been added to (with a few surprising names he actually knew _personally._ Liu Yuning and _Zhou Shen?_ They were _Favourites_?) had joked that now He-laoshi had a new chick to fuss over. Apparently He Jiong was notorious? Famous? For such caregiving.

So he wasn't entirely surprised by the care packages he kept receiving even though he was in another city, another _country_ , altogether. 

He'd taken He-laoshi's… advice to heart, and kept an eye on his husband. He hadn't seen him take a single cigarette even though he'd found a few packs in Jingyu's trailer, unopened and recently purchased. The fact that it was something that someone had to warn him about, and yet Jingyu had said nothing about, told him that it was… worse than a habit, both the smoking and drinking. And Jingyu knew it was a problem and was hiding it from him. 

Which meant he was also trying to go cold turkey.

Weizhou resolutely put that out of mind for now – he would figure out a proper way to make reparations for the harm he'd caused Jingyu all these years. For now, he'd open the package and… 

On top of the soft breathable long-sleeved clothes that he definitely appreciated were meticulously packaged herbs and pregnancy test kits. 

Weizhou could take a hint. 

He checked that he was at a decent stopping point for the song he was composing for the Cao Concert, and picked up one of the test kits. 

He-laoshi had to be wrong.

* * *

As soon as Ayanga heard a familiar voice all but yelling in Sichuanese at him, he just passed it straight to Zheng Yunlong without a word. 

For his part, Zheng Yunlong stared at the phone like it was a ticking bomb for a few seconds – while loud, panicked Sichuanese still blasted from the speaker – before he plucked it gingerly from Ayanga's hand and said, in Mandarin: "My vocabulary in Sichuanese isn't enough to be anything but vulgar to explain it, and I definitely didn't take the gaokao in any form. So, uh, I'll just send you the pamphlets my teacher gave me."

Ayanga added, helpfully, "You can find Lao Gong's phone number from WeChat! You're in the same group!"

Then Zheng Yunlong hung up. 

"Vulgar?" Ayanga asked. 

"Are you sure you won't rather practice speaking Sichuanese to Xu Weizhou?" Yunlong asked, raising an eyebrow at his Niangzi. "His Sichuanese is even more precise than mine." 

"Lao Gong said that Chongqing is very far from Chengdu," Ayanga refused cheerfully. "The dialectal differences and speed at which you both speak is too fast for me." 

He continued looking at Yunlong expectantly, until Yunlong gave in and explained, "He's Shu. His sex education is worse than mine. I'll just take pictures of the pamphlets that Xiao-laoshi gave me and send them to him."

"No, I want to know what are the vulgar terms you mentioned?" Ayanga said, tone ever so innocent. "The Sichuanese you taught me seemed so _proper_."

Yunlong felt his face heat up, and Ayanga's expression turned hungry and wicked. Yunlong shoved the phone back at his husband. "When you're done filming, I'll teach you. Tonight."

"You might have to demonstrate," Ayanga said, his innocent tone at complete odds with his face and his expression. "I am very slow with languages."

"You most definitely have no issue with _tongues_ ," Yunlong shot back, and smirked when Ayanga's ears went red.

They stayed red enough that even Fei Yuqin remarked on it, later.

* * *

Weizhou stared at the somewhat lopsided photos that Zheng Yunlong via Ayanga sent him on his new, thankfully tri-country roaming plan. 

The sperm was wearing a hat. 

The language was very simple, so at least he didn't have as hard a time trying to figure out the differences with the traditional versus the simplified (he was going to have to learn how to read and write in traditional Chinese a lot more intensely than he'd thought) and he was not going to scream more. He really wasn't. 

This wasn't telling him very much except that condoms should be used no matter what, and now he was wondering if that hat was meant to be a condom. 

They apparently had very stylish condoms in Wei. 

So there he was, with a pee-covered pregnancy test-stick on one hand, his phone with a be-hatted condom in the other, and what was he supposed to do? 

Call up a doctor? Call the doctor he'd been assigned and go, hi I've been knocked up by a biological impossibility because my husband's sperm hadn't worn a hat? 

If he tried saying that anywhere in Shu or Wu, and his husband was not an Alpha, he'd probably be committed. Even he didn't quite believe himself, and he'd peed on three of those sticks. 

How was he supposed to tell his husband? 

"Xifu'r?" Jingyu said, sliding his arms around Weizhou from behind, so Weizhou didn't quite shriek and throw both phone and stick into the trash. "Do you… not want the baby? I know it's very fast…" 

"I have to tell you that— wait what?" 

"And you likely never expected it," Jingyu continued. 

"... how did you know I was pregnant?!" Weizhou yelped. 

"... was I not supposed to know?" Jingyu said, surprise colouring his tone. "Should I pretend that I didn't know you didn't get a period?" 

Weizhou twisted around in his arms, barely managing to not smack his husband in the jaw with the sperm-in-a-hat on his screen. "I didn't even know! I didn't even have a heat!" 

Up close, Jingyu's face was entirely full of question marks. He opened his mouth. 

"And you're not an Alpha, and I'm definitely not an omega so how on earth did you know I'm pregnant?" Weizhou said before Jingyu could even breathe a word. 

"... You were in heat the entire time we were together that first time?" Jingyu said, sounding completely and utterly puzzled. 

Weizhou wasn't entirely sure they should be having this conversation in the bathroom; especially considering that they both weren't _small_ , and the bathroom wasn't huge. 

He tried nudging his husband out, and Jingyu just basically tightened his hold around Weizhou's waist and just… lifted him up and started walking backwards. 

Weizhou let _that_ distract him for a moment – his Jingyu was so _strong_! – before he remembered, yes, pee-stick, also, better toss that back into the bin somehow, before draping his arms around his husband's broad shoulders. "I wasn't in heat!" he said into Jingyu's shoulder. "You're not an _Alpha_!" 

Jingyu turned around, put him on the couch, crouching down in front of him – Weizhou automatically spread his knees to give Jingyu space. 

"What has being an Alpha got anything to do with it?" 

Weizhou opened his mouth – the whole high school human/mammal biology wanting to spill out from behind his tongue. 

_Obviously_ male betas only get pregnant from Alphas. Basic high school biology. Male betas might have to be _wary_ around Alphas, because Alphas could trigger heats in male betas, but male betas were entirely safe from triggered heats from other betas because they didn't have the knots or the hormones. A male beta like him being wary of other male betas in Wu was hardly because he needed to be scared of possibly getting triggered by _them_ , but by the fact that power-hungry assholes would take advantage of anyone perceived to be weaker than them. 

But he couldn't say _it's high school biology_ , not to Jingyu. Not when he had no intention of reminding his husband of his far lower inclination for academics. 

"Only Alphas can trigger heats in beta men," Weizhou said. 

"That's not true," Jingyu said. "There are cases of omegas triggering heats in other omegas, much less betas in other betas." 

"Next you're going to tell me about be-hatted sperms," Weizhou said, confused by the absolute _conviction_ in Jingyu's voice. "Maybe you're just really special? Somehow?" 

Jingyu mouthed, _hat sperm_ at him, and Weizhou shoved his phone at Jingyu. 

His husband squinted at the pictures that Zheng Yunlong had sent him; he looked as bewildered as Weizhou had been. 

"... alright?" Jingyu said. "That looks about correct?" 

"It's very clearly _wrong_ ," Weizhou said, jiggling his phone a little until Jingyu plucked it from his hand, put it aside, and then cupped Weizhou's hands between his palms. "Obviously the sperm with the hat represents Alpha sperm—" 

"There's a couple in my neighbourhood, both betas," Jingyu said. "But—" 

"Which neighbourhood," Weizhou said, squinting suspiciously. "If it's from that shed in Beijing…" 

"Back in Dandong," Jingyu said, not at all rising to the bait, "the woman is the husband and the man is the wife."

"If she was the husband," Weizhou pointed out, "The sperm would have a hairbow too." 

Jingyu blinked.

"Girl sperm," Weizhou said. "Or else she's secretly an Alpha." 

".... no," Jingyu said, deciding to disregard the hairbow thing. (Which was admittedly silly, Weizhou had always found that sort of weird anthropomorphic and gendered art in Wu rather annoying, but he wasn't unable to _read_ the code in such things even in the pamphlets obviously geared to children.) 

"Alright, you've… met Ayanga right?" Jingyu said. "And his husband? I'm not saying tha—"

"Is he an omega all along?" Weizhou interrupted, because he had been _so_ sure that Ayanga was an Alpha, who had cross-casted for that video, but now Jingyu was bringing him up… 

"What," Jingyu said, looking even more perplexed. 

"That video," Weizhou said, "All my highschool ex-classmates and university schoolmates were _convinced_ he was an omega, and they didn't listen to me when I said it was _acting_ and that he was a good actor too, but now I'm going to have to eat crow, and I refuse to eat crow for that batch of snobby bas—" 

"Don't eat crow," Jingyu said, looking even more confused. 

"Only because you asked," Weizhou said, leaning in to kiss Jingyu's forehead. 

His husband looked very pleased at that. 

"So is he an omega?" 

"Who?" 

"Ayanga. Gazi." 

"He's an Alpha!" Jingyu said, and at least _that_ assuaged his pride a little, because Weizhou was _definitely_ not going to admit that his classmates, most of whom had been snotty shits who had, in 2017, more or less behaved like Weizhou didn't exist, were right about Ayanga being an omega. He didn't talk to his university classmates anymore, but his degree in acting, even if he didn't _act_ , had to be useful for _something_ , and spotting hints of cross-casting techniques was like the least of it. 

You'd think that they, all of them Shu to the last one, would know _that_ – almost no omega in Shu-productions was portrayed by an actual omega anyway, no matter how good an actor they were, let alone a male omega. The impressive thing was having an unmistakable Alpha like Ayanga act so convincingly as one that there was an actual fandom out there absolutely _convinced_ that Ayanga was an omega playing the Alpha in his concerts. 

"He did portray one in the video," Weizhou said, helpfully, and it was only because Jingyu was still holding both his hands between his that Weizhou couldn't show him that video of Ayanga dressed in those long sleeves and looking like an absolute pining omega. 

"What video— no wait, what I'm _saying_ is that if you'd met Ayanga—"

Weizhou tried to tug a hand free; Jingyu tightened his clasp. Weizhou pouted. 

"How can you believe that Alphas are these— super fierce and dominating kinds of people?" Jingyu said, "I can break that guy with one hand, and he would just sit there and cry." 

Weizhou thought about Jingyu actually meeting Ayanga, someone who could just shoot _intimidation_ from his eyes because he was pining for his husband and probably lacked morning coffee, and imagined Jingyu breaking _that_ Alpha's spine. 

He kind of melted against the couch. 

His husband was _very_ strong~

No, wait— "I didn't say anything about Alphas being _dominating_ or fierce or anything like that," Weizhou said,."This is about biology! You need an Alpha's knot to trigger heat!" 

Jingyu stared at him, opening his mouth. "No? The knot doesn't trigger…" He dropped his forehead against Weizhou's wrists. "You went to University," he said a little plaintively, "How is your sex ed this bad?" 

"The gaokao didn't include 'sex ed'," Weizhou said indignantly, "But I scored 94% for my high school biology, I'd know what I'm talking about—!" 

"Do not break Gazi," Weizhou's phone said abruptly, in a voice several octaves deeper than default neutral female alto of his phone's voice-activated AI assistant XiaoAI.

Weizhou stared down at his still blatantly black-screened phone. 

"Hi, Wang Xi-ge," Jingyu said, "I will definitely not break Gazi, I would prefer Si Fu-ren not to know who I am." 

"I won't be responsible for Da Long breaking _you_." the deep voice – it was familiar, wasn't that the voice who had told him that yes, Wei did use renminbi? … wait Wang Xi? He was _that_ Wang Xi? Wei's famous reclusive deep bass singer? Who rarely left Wei and did like, only one performance in Wu a year? _That_ Wang Xi? – continued. 

Jingyu suddenly burst into laughter, head sliding off Weizhou's wrists to flop against Weizhou's knee. Weizhou could tug a hand free then and pat his husband's hair. 

"Uh," Weizhou said. 

"Zheng Yunlong, break _me_?" Jingyu managed, through shoulder-shaking giggles. 

"I'm letting the Shameless Shu Slut know that you think very little about his physical prowess," Wang Xi said. "His reaction would amuse me for a week." 

Shameless— what? For a moment he thought Wang Xi was referring to _him_ , and it was said in such a fond _tone_ he wasn't even offended. But Zheng Yunlong being shameless? He had been very polite, even when being protective, not possessive, over his husband. 

He stared at his phone for a moment more. 

"Right," Jingyu said, "While you're at it, thank him for talking to Zhouzhou for me." 

"You know he was spectacularly unhel—" Weizhou started, but stopped because Jingyu got up and swept him into his arms; a little bit of vertigo and then he was much more comfortably situated in his husband's lap, Jingyu's arms wrapped around him, his jaw being nuzzled and little butterfly kisses peppered down his face and cheeks. 

…. Well who could say no to _that_? 

"Mmm," Wang Xi said, "Closing this connection now. Read those materials the doctor sent you, Xiaozhou." 

After about five minutes of kissing, Weizhou remembered the whole point to this conversation. "It's still not explaining biology," Weizhou said, "And now I have to wonder why my phone has Wang Fucking Xi on it." 

"That's pretty common for Favourites," Jingyu said, nuzzling Weizhou's ear. 

"The Favourites' XiaoAI is the reclusive yet very hands-on busybody Wang Xi," Weizhou said sceptically. "No wonder Siri hasn't made any headway into Wei." 

_And_ said 'phone voice-activated assistant' had all but run away as soon as Jingyu started being affectionate. Was Wei's prudish reputation based entirely on One Reclusive Alpha? 

"Mmhmm," Jingyu agreed, nipping Weizhou's neck. 

He squirmed, tipping his head back and settling more in his husband's lap, reaching back to thread his fingers into Jingyu's hair— wait, he was talking about biology— 

"Wai— wait, nothing is explained! If I had had a heat, I would have lost time!" Everyone knew that was how heats worked, overwhelming _every sense_ until one literally lost time and woke up a week later with everything lost to the ravages of an Alpha-triggered heat. 

Jingyu paused in renewing his mark on Weizhou's throat. 

".... we did. Did you forget?" 

"I lost _track_ of time, not lost _time_ ," Weizhou said indignantly.

He tugged at Jingyu's hair until Jingyu reluctantly pulled back, allowing Weizhou to turn around in his lap to face him. 

Jingyu's face said he didn't see a difference in terminology. 

"Alright," he said, "How many times did you come then? Approximately?" 

Weizhou chewed on his lip for a moment, thinking. 

"Do you remember all of the … uh, tricks. I did?" Jingyu continued. 

"... Several times on the … couch," Weizhou said, and still blushed at the thought of that poor couch, a whole country away in Wei. Probably someone had set it on fire by now. "Then the medics showed up and then the kitchen had a few times before we moved to the bedroom?" 

Jingyu's expression got more and more smug as Weizhou laid out all the times that they'd— well, had _united_ , and it was _so cute_ and Weizhou couldn't help patting his husband's very broad shoulders in praise. 

"There was that thing I did with my mouth that I am very proud of, do you remember that?" Jingyu said, all but beaming at him. 

"My husband is a _great_ driver," Weizhou said just to see him get so smug his phone probably would combust from Wang Xi's outraged modesty. "You didn't do _that_ last time we were in Chengdu~" 

"I wasn't as practiced then," Jingyu said, pleased and all but wriggling in place until suddenly he abruptly, and obviously, realised the implications of _practiced_. "I suddenly regret this entire conversation—" 

"So I'm reaping the benefits, is what you're saying?" Weizhou said, not wanting his husband to regret _anything_ , and perfectly willing to turn the conversation into something Jingyu could be proud of instead.

If his added purr to his voice made Jingyu's ears turn bright red, all the better. 

"Y- yes?" Jingyu said, and oh look, the red was creeping down his neck. 

"Did you want feedback?" Weizhou murmured, draping his arms over Jingyu's shoulders, fingers curling delicately into the textured cotton of his polo shirt, scratching lightly. "A _grade_?" 

Jingyu's little choked gargle was very satisfying. 

Weizhou smiled. "If you do it again, I'll have a _comparative_ feedback report for you." 

Jingyu's face was entirely _red_ , but he abruptly stood straight up and two seconds later Weizhou was flat on the bed, knees folded straight back up against his chest. 

Heh.

* * *

Wang Xi opened the Shu highschool biology textbooks he'd downloaded out of some sort of morbid curiosity thanks to Cao Zhi's latest Favourite's Surprise at Being Pregnant. 

Then stared at it for a very long time. 

"This is impossible to read, what garbage is this?" he said, and forwarded it to Ayanga. 

Not three minutes later Ayanga sent back a sobbing emoji on WeChat. 

> Gazi: 😭:sob:
> 
> Gazi: I CAN'T READ.
> 
> WX: NEITHER CAN I. THIS IS RUBBISH. NO WONDER SHU PEOPLE KNOW NOTHING.
> 
> _ShamelessShuSlut has entered the conversation_
> 
> ShamelessShuSlut: why are you making Niangzi cry  
>  ShamelessShuSlut: oh  
>  ShamelessShuSlut: lol man they haven't changed the curriculum in 20 years hahahah  
>  ShamelessShuSlut: Sleeping with the teacher is a way more useful way to gain knowledge than this book
> 
> WX: . 
> 
> Gazi: . 
> 
> WX: I'm calling your therapist. 
> 
> ShamelessShuSlut: I said nothing!!!!! XI-GE! 

Wang Xi just tapped to activate Gazi's phone bugs. "You have an appointment tomorrow now." 

"But Xi-ge…" Yunlong started, and Gazi sighed sadly. 

"Lao Gong…" 

Yunlong made a whining noise. "Alright. Fine." Then there was a soft noise that had to be Yunlong kissing his husband. 

Again. 

"While you both are canoodling," Wang Xi said, switching back to his copy of the unreadable textbook. "Explain this rubbish."

"It's in simplified Chinese," Yunlong said, half laughing. "Shu and Wu use that." 

"I already learned _one_ written system," Ayanga said, sounding very much like a martyr. "I can't read _that_ , it feels like having a stroke." 

"It's fine, Niangzi," Yunlong said, with some rustling noises that meant someone was being cuddled. 

"I can just make out 'male' and 'female'," Wang Xi said loudly, to remind them he was still on the line, even if he wasn't in the room. 

"Right, yeah, it's very binary," Yunlong said. "Omegas and beta women on one side, beta men and Alphas on the other; they're only allowed to fu— mate with the other side, not within." 

"Are they even using the right terms for betas? Don't they know that omegas and betas are very different?" Wang Xi said, somewhat aghast. 

"Because," Yunlong said, with that faux-teaching lilt to his voice which made Wang Xi roll his eyes. "Omegas are very rare and a minority population, you can disregard them in general biology." 

That sounded like an answer Yunlong had personally received. 

"Omegas are _ten percent_ of the population," Gazi said. "We still count them even in the sheep!" 

"This is _human_ biology, Niangzi, Shu doesn't have sheep," Yunlong said facetiously. "If you're a male beta married to an Alpha, like my mother, then it's only permissible if it's a female Alpha, like my father." 

"Because having a whole portion of male betas and male Alphas go without 'permissible' mates is better than understanding that male beta-beta pairs is perfectly reproductively viable?" Wang Xi said, trying to wrap his brain around that idea. 

"You don't have to try doing the maths, Niangzi," Yunlong said, "I tried, and it didn't work out. And the teachers told me to stop reading seditious material and go study for the gaokao instead." 

"I have severe doubts about the ability of your Shu Doctors," Wang Xi said. "These diagrams barely pay lip service to the fact that male betas have perfectly viable uteruses and ovaries." 

"And that female betas have working penises and testes?" Yunlong said. "Yeah. I found my own answers. I'm pretty sure that I should be glad that my parents only tried to have one child." 

"So medical school in Shu might as well be re-named clown school," Wang Xi muttered. "If Cao Chong saw this, Shu would be responsible for making our Prime Minister's sister-in-law cry." 

"As should the whole theory," Yunlong said, "I remember tearing through my father's personal library because the school library was rather limited. It's an actual legitimate school of thought about opposite attraction: heterosexuality based on differentiation. Gendered differentiation and appearance." 

"But rams mount each other all the time," Ayanga said. 

"I said Shu doesn't have sheep," Yunlong said. "This whole theory came to China during the Qing dynasty from the British, or maybe the Americans, I'm not sure I remember very well." 

"You have a photographic memory," Wang Xi said. 

"I've forgotten," Yunlong said cheerfully. 

"I can't believe you're making me fact-check a stupid Shu textbook with Baidu," Wang Xi said, pulling up Baidu and searching for that 'heterosexuality' term on it. "... Baidu doesn't believe it exists." 

"Right," Yunlong said, "because Wei uses 可育·不可育. The ability to conceive." 

Wang Xi gave his phone a disgusted look, and retyped the search term. Then skimmed through it. "Huh. You're actually right, most of Chinese history didn't care – same 'gender' beta pairs were strongly discouraged in the Song Dynasty, particularly after the fall of the Tang, in some sort of… institutionalised legal thingy. Might be because the Yuan Dynasty was all for people having legal babies with whoever they want and is willing—" 

"Yay for Kublai Khan," Ayanga said. 

"—and then the Manchurians said it was okay until they established the Qing Dynasty and threw male betas under the bus in the name of assimilation," Yunlong added on. "Yeah. I remember that bit. It explained the differences in… socialisation in Shu and Wei quite handily." 

They all sat there in silence. 

Wang Xi contemplated the textbook again. 

"Right," he said, "That means I'm going to have to book Xu Weizhou for a proper crash course in human reproduction." 

"If you make him cry, I'll hang up on him," Yunlong said, "I still don't know why he calls _me_. I barely know him." 

"He probably finds your shamelessness soothing," Wang Xi said. 

"Thanks," Yunlong said. "Thanks a lot." 

"You're welcome."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For everyone's entertainment: the video of Ayanga that XWZ was talking about is this 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lm6fvIfX4Ok and  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MylWkNS5L7s
> 
> In RL these video trailers are for a film in 2020, but in Wei AU, the film's trailer was made and broadcast in 2017, the film itself also broadcast in 2017. (the reason is simple. We cocked up. :) ) 
> 
> In Shu, Ayanga is thus seen as an _omega_ , possibly an omega made to act the Alpha.
> 
> If anyone was curious, this is what "shameless shu slut" in Chinese MIGHT be: 无耻的蜀淫. It doesn't alliterate so nicely in Chinese – I'll let Evocates figure out a better term to mangle the language in. 
> 
> A good portion of this chapter is courtesy of my experience tutoring biology at the secondary/high school level. Specifically, a LOT of bullshit is taught, particularly in terms of Evolution and Ecology at that level. I once was asked by a student to explain the difference between natural selection and artificial/human selection and. 
> 
> Uh. Don't get me started on a huge rant but, long story short, there is NO difference. The mechanism is exactly the fucking same. I can and will copy-paste a fucking rant about it at you if you ask. 
> 
> But anyway, yes, education is political – science is science, but the doing of and perception of science is political and influenced by the viewer. Just look at how giraffes' homosexual behaviour was explained by Victorian naturalists as 'dominance behaviour' while a male giraffe barely grazing a female is immediately counted as courting or mating behaviour. 
> 
> XWZ was a VERY GOOD STUDENT in the traditional sense, especially in Shu's ideal, unlike ZYL. ZYL questioned what he was taught and what he learned in the textbooks. XWZ did not. XWZ did everything right, as expected by his teachers, dutifully learned and memorized everything in his textbooks – and thus when he was confronted by reality, that male beta-pairs actually _can_ impregnate each other, just at a much lower rate than male-female beta pairs, 'heterosexual' pairs, he was at complete loss. 
> 
> He's literally pregnant, and cannot even understand how that happened. 
> 
> If this sounds oddly familiar… well. :)
> 
> * * *
> 
> And yes, those pamphlets made a brief showing in Liu Yuning's story #DoNotPost. They are very well-travelled pamphlets by then.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Wei during their own … relatively recent history, reverted to using Traditional Chinese, much like Hong Kong and Taiwan. Shu and Wu continued using Simplified Chinese. Thus most Wei citizens would have a lot of trouble reading a textbook in Simplified Chinese, before screaming and then throwing it against the wall.
> 
> As an example of traditional Chinese versus simplified, we have ZYL's name 鄭雲龍 in trad. Chinese, versus 郑云龙 in Simplified Chinese. Isn't it nice. 
> 
> XWZ definitely is going to have a Minor Time learning Traditional Chinese – but hey, when you use the language often, you'll get used to it really quickly, right? 
> 
> Ask ZYL ~~the model immigrant~~. :D


	7. Cao Concert, Beijing City, WEI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: 
> 
> This chapter (and the subsequent ones) are… uh. Dealing with rather delicate issues of domestic violence, and false accusations of such, as well as what claims to be attempted suicide in an attempt to manipulate someone, possibly as emotional blackmail. Read carefully and practice self-care.
> 
> This is not meant to invalidate the situation of domestic abuse victims; even false accusations generally do not mean that there isn't abuse happening at _some_ point.

Weizhou might be pregnant, but there were some far more immediate concerns to deal with – pregnancy meant he only had to be very concerned with a nine month deadline; the Cao Concert was in a mere handful of weeks. 

So while in Changsha with Jingyu finishing up the final filming for that TV series he was doing with Dilraba (it was adorable how well he got along with his co-star Dilraba – she bullied him like the older brother Jingyu never had, and Jingyu always looked so put-upon and bewildered. It was hilarious), Weizhou worked hard at composing the songs he would be performing. There was no set theme other than that it should vaguely have something to do with the new year, probably; new year, new resolutions, and new wishes.

With the fact that he was in a new country, with a new citizenship and a new life spreading out in front of him, he had plenty to think about and compose. The main issue was trying to narrow it all down. 

The year ticked into January 2020, Jingyu's filming wrapped up, and Weizhou's performance was almost done— 

Then Jingyu collapsed. 

It was as bad as He Jiong had hinted – his systems had been stressed by _years_ of hard use, and while the doctors had been very circumspect about it, Weizhou could hear underneath it all. 

The interrupted fixation had stressed his organs and endocrine systems, and for _years_ too. It wasn't helped by the fact that he had been trying to quit both drinking _and_ smoking cold turkey while working overtime on the show with Dilraba. 

The doctors were quite frankly amazed that he hadn't collapsed earlier. 

Weizhou hadn't _noticed_. 

He had been focusing so much on his performance that he hadn't noticed the signs that his husband was deteriorating and that he was pushing himself to finish the filming on adrenaline and fumes alone, because Weizhou's ideal partner was one who was took responsibility for his own obligations and contracts, one who did what he said and finished what he’d promised he'd do.

("It's not what Xifu'r said," Jingyu said, when they took him off the oxygen, and Weizhou tried not to cry on his husband. "It's just the right thing to do." 

"Not at your expense. Not if you _died_." ) 

The worst part, the _worst_ part was that it had happened so normally, like he'd just been sitting, off set, guitar in hand and scribbling something, and he'd looked up when the Director said, "Cut, that's a wrap, we're done," and everyone had cheered, tiredly. 

The last scene to be filmed had been his husband sitting down at a table, with Dilraba leaning over him, and she'd straightened up, and Jingyu had smiled towards Weizhou— 

And he'd stood up and then his eyes had rolled back in his head and if it weren't for Dilraba catching him, he'd have hit his head on the corner of the table on the way down. 

And now he was in the hospital staring at his husband sleeping. 

He was fine _now_. His numbers were concerning but it wasn't like he would die within the next hour but Weizhou couldn't pull himself to leave. 

"Ah, Zhouzhou, you have questions?" 

Cao Zhi had been the one to call _him_ but it didn't matter, because Weizhou had a question anyway, his hand on Jingyu's as gentle as he could force himself to remember. 

"What is the _point_ of my performance in the Cao Concert?" he demanded. 

"The theme isn't meant to be fixed—"

"What is the point of _me_ being on the Cao Concert?" Weizhou all but snarled. "What am I supposed to _show_?" 

What was the point of him being on the concert, focusing so _hard_ on it, he had completely missed how his husband was falling apart right under his nose? Almost four years of never seeing him, all that damage he'd done to Jingyu, and he'd almost lost him all over again. 

"I don't pick just anyone," Cao Zhi said, which wasn't an answer, except it was, all at once. 

He had to show he was _worthy_ — no, that there was some sort of skill and talent to be on the Concert. He'd heard, vaguely, that most of the others on his Team A from Our Song (Liu Yuning, _Zhou Shen_ ) were to be on the same concert too, something to do with showing _their_ Favour too. 

And what did he have to show? How could he be good enough to be chosen, when he'd almost lost Jingyu all over again? 

When he'd almost lost him while trapped in his own mind—

"Shu didn't really know what to do with you, did it?" Cao Zhi said, mildly, distantly, like he was wandering off the phone again, and Weizhou hung up. 

He had the answer. 

He'd been chosen for his _anger_ , his ability to translate anger and emotion into sound, directed and aimed for the heart. 

And the anger was part defiance because of the betrayal of his country, and the loss of Jingyu— 

That was what his performance had to be. 

It wasn't just him – Cao Zhi had chosen him because he had been screaming for Jingyu – and the only way that Wei could see _why_ was to have Jingyu included in this too. 

(He would never leave Jingyu out of his life, out of his performances, out of his heart, ever again.)

* * *

It didn't matter if Jingyu couldn't sing as well as he could – Weizhou rewrote everything specifically _so_ Jingyu could sing within his range and ability. 

He was somewhat sure that Jingyu thought he should calm down, somehow, but at least half of this was Weizhou's fault and negligence – how could he _not_ be angry at himself? There was a lot he could punish himself for— 

"I don't blame Xifu'r?" Jingyu said, plaintively, handling the sheets Weizhou handed him with his one hand. At least it was only one IV-drip instead of a blood transfusion; he was only hooked up for IV and nutrients because he had been severely dehydrated, but that would be fixed with rest. 

(A lot of rest. No running around trying to do workouts or carrying people or anything that would _stress him out_.) 

"Please don't be angry at yourself," Jingyu said, and reached for him and Weizhou had to go _to_ him, careful of the IV-lines and the tubes and the cables everywhere and he spared a thought for the fact that somehow, maybe, Wei's healthcare in Beijing, and maybe because he was a Favourite, or Jingyu was rich, that the hospital room wasn't like every Western hospital portrayed – sterile, lonely and metallic. Here he could curl up next to Jingyu, if he was very careful, and be grateful that Jingyu's hospital room was private and looked more like a hotel than a hospital. 

If it looked like a hospital room, it'd look like the ICU and then he might never forgive himself. 

"I'm not," Weizhou said, shuffling himself down a little so he wouldn't be leaning _on_ Jingyu, and his husband made the saddest sound, right hand twitching and reaching for his shoulder. 

"You are," Jingyu said. "Please, the stress isn't good for the baby?" 

It wasn't good for Weizhou, was what he meant to say, and Weizhou could hear it loud and clear. 

But stress _was_ good for him, made him productive, and if Jingyu didn't want him to be angry at himself, fine, he could. But it meant he was reserving all of his anger for Shu's administration, and it was _easy_ to be angry at them. 

There were so many reasons to be angry at the country of his birth that repudiating them and changing his citizenship wasn't quite enough to assuage his fury.

* * *

"You can't, actually, perform together," He Jiong said in a call to Weizhou. 

He hadn't sent the performance outline _to_ He Jiong. But apparently one of the things about being a Favourite included a complete lack of privacy, which he'd figured considering that his phone's voice-assistant was occasionally Wang Xi. 

"Why not?" Weizhou said, and he could afford to be belligerent, since he had been just about forcibly pried out of Jingyu's hospital room to let him have a proper rest without Weizhou restlessly and feverishly rewriting and rearranging music beside him. "I don't give a fuck what Zhuge-fucking-Liang thinks about us – we're not in _Shu_ are we? Is Wei so scared of what Zhuge Liang thinks that your own _Favourite_ is going to be restricted? Are you going to separate us again?" 

He Jiong sighed, very softly. "No, Zhouzhou," he said, gently. "We aren't going to separate you. You're married after all." 

Married and mated and the thought of not being able to see Jingyu for the rest of the _day_ already had him pacing the apartment that Cao Zhi had given them to stay in for the interim; if he was to perform _without_ Jingyu, he might tear out throats with his bare hands. 

"Then what's the issue?" he snarled. 

"You aren't allowed to be in the same _frame_ together," He Jiong said. "Zhouzhou, calm down and be logical. We'd like to have you both in one piece after the Concert and not _dead_ after." 

Weizhou stopped, staring unseeing at his window. He thought he felt a chill down his spine. "What do you mean _dead_. Is Jingyu—" 

"No, nothing is wrong with Jingyu," He Jiong said. "But—" 

"I'm having your security increased," Cao Zhi broke in, sounding oddly _serious_ for once. 

"Zijian," He Jiong scolded, "you'll scare him." 

"No," Weizhou said. "Tell me." 

"Have you _watched_ the Cao Concerts?" Cao Zhi asked. 

"No," he started but… "They're important aren't they." The way to announce Favourites—

"He-laoshi, tell him," Cao Zhi said. "He needs to know." 

"Then get off the line and let me tell him, Zijian," He Jiong said, and without even missing a beat, "It's not just a concert, and it's not just a way to announce favour, Zhouzhou. It's a political _statement_. Not even every Favourite is announced on the Cao Concert that way. You know Zijian's siblings have other _Favourites_?" 

This was the first time that He Jiong was emphasizing the word _Favourite_ , and Weizhou was abruptly reminded that it wasn't the same word that Wu and Shu had used interchangeably with so many others such as 'the most favoured', or 'most popular', with the unspoken understanding that it meant _nepotism_. 

He Jiong was using _hui xia_ , one who is under another's banner, and it was very, _very_ feudal in meaning. He turned to look at his computer – the one his mother had brought over from his Shanghai apartment – and clicked open He Jiong's Weibo. 

He'd remembered something a little odd about it, but hadn't thought too much, since he had a lot more things to worry about, being in Wei for the first time. 

Under He Jiong's name was a little image of a banner or a flag – when he hovered his cursor over it, a little pop up said, "the Banner of Cao Zhi". No one's profile page could have those sorts of graphics inserted, only an assortment of emojis. He couldn't highlight it, the way he could highlight emojis or actual images. 

Banner, like the Manchurian affiliations he'd heard of from the Qing dynasty. Or from the Mongolians in the Yuan dynasty. 

"Do they all have the banners on their Weibo?" Weizhou asked. 

"Yes." He Jiong sounded approving, like a teacher who was pleased his student had gotten the hint. "Do you know what it means, to be a Favourite, Zhouzhou?" 

"I have an inkling." Ayanga, Liu Yuning and Zhou Shen were Favourites, and so was He Jiong. They certainly enjoyed a lot of favour and security — he wasn't stupid enough to think that he would be enjoying this level of personal attention from He Jiong and other of the suited security guards if he _wasn't_ a Favourite. 

(Certainly the medical attention called for them both so quickly, and the arrangement for them to be _married_ , as well as his transfer to Wei's Company with absolutely no repercussions and penalties on his side could only be due to his being a Favourite. At some point, he'll worry about possibly _losing_ the favour, but not… not now.) 

"The Concert is aired in all three countries," He Jiong said, thoughtfully. Slowly, at walking speed, Weizhou thought. _Andante_. "A who's who in Wei's Entertainment industry, in particular. All three administrations of China would watch it. Why do you think that is?" 

Because it was an announcement, Weizhou realised. A political statement in and of itself, about who was not only _who_ , but who was _untouchable_. 

"Our Old Story – Gazi and Da Long," He Jiong continued, "have been on the Concert since 2016, ever since Si Fu-ren chose them." 

"They're very talented," Weizhou said slowly. 

"Yes, but it's not just because they're talented," He Jiong said. "Gay marriage has been legal since oh, 2009." 

"They weren't even out of university then, were they?" Weizhou said, mildly confused. 

He Jiong said nothing, letting silence fill in briefly, and Weizhou realised that the two apparently unrelated thoughts were, in fact, very related. 

He opened a tab to check the history of Alpha-Alpha marriage in Wei – there was next to nothing on Google, again, but on Baidu, 2009 was when _Cao Zhang_ was legally married to his husband Xiahou Shang, the _first_ legalised marriage between two Alphas in Wei. 

But it was only in 2015 that gay marriage attained mainstream _acceptance_ , rather than mere legal tolerance.

A process that started from Ayanga's most popular interview, where he'd mentioned his _husband_ Zheng Yunlong. 

Ayanga and Zheng Yunlong weren't just Favourites; they were political symbols. Or maybe that was the thing – Favourites _were_ political symbols. These two weren't just hugely talented entertainers and singers, but they were the household representations of "what gay Alphas were". 

Reading further into that silence, Weizhou realised what else it meant – they were not just symbols, but also _untouchable_ , because they were under – he checked Ayanga's Weibo, and was unsurprised to see that his Weibo had a banner too, a smaller one than He Jiong's but his hovering cursor said _Si Fu-ren's Banner_ – the banner of a Cao. 

"What sort of payment am I supposed to give in return?" Weizhou said after staring at the blinking words. 

"Nothing more than what you're doing," He Jiong said, and his smile was obvious on the phone. "Zijian likes your talent in translating your emotions into lyrics and performance." 

"But—" 

"But this is political now," He Jiong said. "Just in claiming you – and on one hand, doing it quietly the way many other Favourites are claimed would be safer in the immediate run, but making the public statement of the Cao Concert would mean that if anything happened to you, there would be public repercussions." 

And that anyone who sent _assassins_ after him, Weizhou realised, wouldn't be able to claim that they _hadn't known, oh, what a tragic accident_. 

"So why can't we put it out in the open?" Weizhou said. "Reject that—" 

"Shu has the prerogative to exercise souveriginity," He Jiong said. "And you're still not yet Wei." 

And Wei was not yet in the position to tell Shu to screw off on their ban, Weizhou realised. There was pissing off Shu when it was just his own neck at risk, Weizhou knew, but… 

His husband was in hospital now – it'd take a while before he'd feel _safe_ enough leaving him alone. 

And Weizhou was _pregnant_. And according to the doctor who had finally cornered him to give him The Talk, male beta pairs were viable and could reproduce together, just statistically far _less_ likely to do so without medical assistance. 

They might never get another child again, so even if the timing might be a bit poor, Weizhou couldn't risk it. 

(He couldn't risk his husband, couldn't risk their child. There was someone other than _himself_ , now.)

"But," Weizhou said, looking towards his guitar, hand clenching hard on his mouse. "I— The point of the performance…"

"Zijian thinks that figuring out a way for both of you to perform together but also making it very obvious that you're not at the same event, let alone on the same stage, would be a lovely intellectual exercise," He Jiong said. "It'd keep him out of my hair for maybe a day."

Weizhou blinked. "... does Cao Zhi know you talk about him like he's a very naughty child?" 

"I'm fairly sure that is why he picked me as a Favourite," He Jiong said, cheerfully fond. "Go get some rest, Zhouzhou, and leave the mechanics of the performance itself up to Zijian, alright?" 

When he hung up, Weizhou realised that it wasn't actually a proper phone call – Weizhou's phone wasn't even on.

* * *

"Your newest Shidi has an anger problem," Cao Pi said, mildly, as He Jiong disconnected his call. 

"Is it really a surprise?" He Jiong said frankly. "He's far more put together than the medical doctors expected." 

"He is basically held together with anger and spite," Wang Xi said. "If he wasn't a _singer_ , I wouldn't be surprised if Cao Zhang took him in instead." 

"He's too delicate," Cao Pi said. "So on Zijian's behalf we’ll entrust this one to your oversight, Xi'er." 

"Isn't my only authority security?" Wang Xi objected, politely. 

"He might be a little politically delicate," Cao Pi said, "Please assist He-laoshi with the supervision." 

His youngest sibling's Favourite bobbed his head obediently. Cao Pi quite approved of him – he was only a handful of years younger than himself, but Wang Xi knew precisely where his duties started and ended. Ziwei had, like their father, chosen pretty well.

He Jiong frowned slightly. "What kind of delicacy are we talking about here? Zhouzhou did bring up something relevant – Shu's ban on them, specifically, is far too targeted; it's like these two, in particular, were being hunted." 

Cao Pi flicked his sleeves, folding them more neatly on the armrests of his wheelchair. "The particulars," he said, "do indeed bear investigation. Thank you for the file, He-laoshi." 

He shifted a little, adjusting his chair next to his desk. "I believe the current statement we will have is that based on medical evidence and advice, these two _must_ be allowed to stay together. We cannot allow our own citizen to succumb to fixation madness." 

"There're medications and treatments to break fixation," Wang Xi murmured. "Why weren’t those administered?" 

"Wu-mei said that it'd gone too long – the breaking of a fixation can only be done in early stages. Three years means it's entrenched, which you yourself recognised." 

Wang Xi nodded — that was fine, Cao Pi didn't mind him questioning a little; it was clear that his question was rhetorical. If he or He Jiong were required to make a statement explaining Wei's decision, it was better for them to have enough facts on hand to answer. 

"And thus it is medically necessary that they be together – we have to get in ahead of possible accusations of kidnapping, that’s all." 

Which meant that He Jiong had to emphasize Xu Weizhou's consent somehow; Cao Pi couldn't go and smack his younger brother in person for this – he'd heard the recording of the 'consent,’ the boy clearly had had _no _idea what he was consenting to, and Fourth Step-mother's Gazi's phone log was even clearer evidence that the boy definitely had very little clue as to what was going on. Smacking Zijian had never resulted in him learning anything better than crying to San-di.__

__On his end, Cao Pi was going to have to emphasize the medical necessity, as well as the side-effects of interrupted fixation and imprinting of these particular two, and de-emphasize the political heat that Xu Weizhou embodied. His _songs_ would suddenly be a lot more prominent just from their notice alone, and Cao Pi's wife was going to have to downplay that particular aspect in the statement Zhuge Liang was sure to demand. _ _

__He Jiong was right though; the specificity of the ban seemed to imply that there was something _personal_ going on. He was going to have to discuss this with his wife and check on whether his youngest sibling Ziwei had enough people of the right levels to probe gently. _ _

__He tapped his fingers against his armrests, and then looked up at the two Favourites, still waiting attentively. "Ride herd on Zjian, He-laoshi. I need to see that performance outline before he goes ahead at setting it up."_ _

__They both nodded, taking the dismissal as said._ _

__He watched them file out, and didn't sigh until the door shut behind Wang Xi. Cao Pi didn't quite like dealing with Zhuge Liang; for all that the man was around the same age as Cao Pi's wife, he was of the prior 'generation' – Liu Bei's administration – and his influence in Shu's governance was very evident even with Liu Bei's son Liu Shan as nominal head now._ _

__Still – they all knew what it meant to be what they were; it didn't matter if the other party was distasteful – they did what had to be done, because it was what they had to do._ _

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* * *

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__The performance itself went well — Cao Zhi had done some sort of magic with technology and computers, and after the rehearsal, both Weizhou and Jingyu got to see the test footage, Weizhou by Jingyu's side._ _

__Very effective splicing and camera work made it clear that Weizhou was alone on the stage – a very plain stage of just him and his guitar, and a single spot light on him. When he played accompaniment to his husband, the light would switch off and a screen would light up, with Jingyu apparently teleconferencing in, his backdrop clearly that of the solar system. At no point during the rehearsal or the performance would the camera capture either of them at the same time – Weizhou's frenzied re-arrangement of the songs had made sure that they didn't sing the melody at the same time, either._ _

__The night of the Concert, Jingyu was able to sit up and was allowed to move around his hospital room, no longer needing to be hooked up to the IV drip constantly though he still needed to have readings and blood tests taken every day or so. To check his hormone levels or something or other, Weizhou didn't understand the details._ _

__But the doctors were sure that he'd be able to go home after his levels stabilized for a few days._ _

__The songs they performed were all about them, though on He Jiong's advice, Weizhou had been circumspect enough to remove all specificity of their actual relationship, leaving the songs to be metaphorical and imagery-laden, and hints that only his – _their_ – fans would catch. He and Jingyu took alternating verses for each song, before he finished off with a medley of a whole bunch of songs from completely different genres that he rearranged in his own genre specifically to sum up their relationship – to showcase _why_ Cao Zhi had chosen him as a Favourite. _ _

__His only interest after that performance was returning to the hospital as soon as possible to cuddle his husband._ _

__He put off the post-concert interview, so it was held one hour before the doctors allowed that Jingyu was to be discharged the next day (after one last night of observation) – so instead of being filmed backstage, he teleconferenced the call in, also using the same virtual background that Jingyu had used for their performance._ _

__If it wasn't as obvious as the sun rising behind Jupiter that they were together, Fuck you Shu, without actually being explicit about how much he wanted to tell Zhuge Liang just how and in what detail he could screw himself, then he had nothing to say about Shu's general intelligence._ _

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* * *

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__"The solar system," Sima Yi said._ _

__"Yes," Cao Zhi said, cheerfully. "Zhouzhou picked it."_ _

__Everyone at the table knew what it meant – the solar system, which implied the existence of the universe, which was _yu zhou_ , a homonym for both Jingyu's and Weizhou's names together. Sima Yi noted that even the term told anyone who cared exactly who topped in this relationship. _ _

__Someone was _very_ angry, and wasn't exactly subtle about it._ _

__Sima Yi's husband glanced towards him, raising an eyebrow; Sima Yi just poured himself another cup of tea._ _

__"Your newest Favourite has a good grasp on words," Sima Yi said ever so mildly to Cao Zhi. "Anyone who fancies themselves as an educated intellectual would appreciate it."_ _

__"And I got him first," Cao Zhi said, smugly._ _

__His brother-in-law promptly lost interest in continuing that discussion when he saw the next performance's new instrument._ _

__Sima Yi continued sipping his tea._ _

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* * *

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__The Concert was broadcast again on the first day of the Spring Festival – while waiting for his discharge paperwork to be issued, Jingyu was given clearance to go to the bigger 'wait room' where a few of the other patients had gathered to watch if they hadn't seen the Cao Concert the night before. Weizhou's parents were there too, having brought some safe foods gentle on the stomach for Jingyu._ _

__The couches here were a little smaller than in Jingyu's room, but all that meant was that Jingyu could try to cuddle Weizhou closer – at least for ten minutes before Weizhou made him release him to the chair next to him so he wouldn't squish his husband too much._ _

__Snuggling in public could be reserved for when they actually weren't afraid of Jingyu keeling over from a heart attack._ _

__If he held Jingyu's hand the entire time— well, it wasn't like he needed two hands to use chopsticks._ _

__"Oh, so pretty, like a princess," said someone around them. Weizhou hadn't noticed who said it._ _

__"Mm?"_ _

__"Liu Yuning," Jingyu murmured. "He really is. Very pretty."_ _

__Weizhou refocused on the tv screen – he'd been focused on feeling his husband's pulse under his fingertips, letting the raw lyrics wash over him; he hadn't noticed how Liu Yuning was dressed – and the murmur of the other patients' and their visitors around him._ _

__"You know him?"_ _

__"Of him," Jingyu said, tipping closer to Weizhou. "He's also from Dandong."_ _

__"Oh," Weizhou said, "So his accent really _is_ your accent?" _ _

__His husband gave him a look, and whatever he saw on Weizhou's face made him break into a soft, pleased smile; because he'd only cared about Liu Yuning's accent _because_ of how much it'd reminded him of Jingyu's, even though he'd almost thought it was wishful thinking, desperate to hear Jingyu's voice in another's words. _ _

__"Yeah," Jingyu said, and that just meant he had to lean in, forward, out of his chair to brush a kiss against his husband's cheek._ _

__Didn't matter if anyone else gave them side-long looks – who else could be so fortunate as to have _Jingyu_ right here, at their side? _ _

__"Should watch the Concert," Jingyu said, but he too was sliding a hand to cup the back of Weizhou's head, bringing him closer, tipping him to brush their foreheads together._ _

__He thought he lost a few minutes reveling in Jingyu's touch, his breath, and his eyes, so he was a little surprised at the way his phone buzzed – actual messages._ _

__Some of his fans already had been screaming on his Weibo about their performance last night, and now there were some who were making links between him and Liu Yuning in terms of their political and symbolic importance. All the way in _Wu_. _ _

__Liu Yuning had been far more _known_ in Wu than in Wei, apparently, but somehow his appearance on the Cao Concert was making a larger cascade on Wei-dominanted Weibo and Baidu. Probably because of his literal appearance – the way the Caos were treated in Wei seemed _almost_ like they were some sort of weird royalty, and Si Fu-ren taking someone who looked like a literal _Princess_ as a Favourite four years after Ayanga, himself a politically important symbol… Somehow made this year's Cao Concert particularly meaningful. _ _

__Which meant that his own performance was subject to the same scrutiny and analysis._ _

__His and Jingyu's co-fans – CP fans, the oldest ones who had been lying dormant and almost quiet since 2016 – had already started flooding the internet with pictures of space and the universe, and Weizhou had been pleased that they'd got _that_ hint, the story about them, an in-joke that no one would believe Cao Zhi himself wouldn't have noticed. Which meant that the Caos endorsed them – endorsed and approved, for all that they were paying lip-service to Shu's ban to not have them in the same frame together. _ _

__Weizhou didn't care if the Caos never issued an actual formal statement about him and Jingyu – this was public and obvious enough to tell Shu how much he didn't need them, didn't care about them._ _

__His phone buzzed again; he almost would ignore it, except Jingyu pulled away. "Someone is messaging you?" he said, thumb rubbing lightly at the curve of Jingyu's ear._ _

__"They can wait," Weizhou muttered, but he reached back to pull out his phone._ _

__Later, he'd think about how the light blinking yellow as an alert was almost ominous._ _

__Later, he'd figure out a way to change the colour to something else._ _

__But then, he'd just thumbed it on, blinked to see his ex-agent from Shanghai had texted him. With a link to someone's Weibo post._ _

___You need to see this,_ his ex-agent had said. _This will blow up very soon.__ _

__'This' turned out to be a web-article loudly stating: _Huang Jingyu's Ex-Girlfriend Reportedly Attempted Suicide, Still in a Coma.__ _

__And that article had links to what appeared to be a goodbye note on Weibo addressed to Jingyu and a post by someone who claimed to be the woman's assistant who had found her 'just in the nick of time'._ _

__It was only when Jingyu's hand touched his shoulder, that Weizhou realised he'd pulled away to sit properly in his seat – and had let go of Jingyu._ _

__"Zhouzhou?"_ _

__The air seemed to buzz – the noise of the other patients, the still playing Concert overlapped and cloaked him in a hollow tunnel of sound._ _

___You used jiejie's single-mother status as a way to wash off the tar of your gay show, and now you can treat her like this! You know what you did._ _ _

__"Zhouzhou," Jingyu said again, his hand starting to slip away from his shoulder. "It's— you don't believe that, do you?"_ _

__When he scrolled through the actual Weibo post by this woman – who was she? Why did she have anything to do with Jingyu? – he saw that below, some of the netizens had linked older posts by her._ _

___OMG our poor Wang-jie! Do you think his new wife saw this? This could happen to him too! That one had better be careful!_ _ _

__He clicked the older posts._ _

__Apparently this woman – a beta, according to her bare bones Wiki article – had been his Jingyu's girlfriend in 2016. Apparently they had even gotten married, and Jingyu had brought her back to meet his parents and grandparents. Apparently there were pictures._ _

__Apparently they divorced back in 2018. Apparently his gentle, silly Jingyu had beat her and left bruises all over her face and body. Apparently there were pictures of that, too._ _

__Apparently she had been _terribly_ concerned about him, Xu Weizhou. She had left a series of messages, carefully left nameless but clearly addressed to Weizhou himself, telling him to be careful in case he ended up as the next victim._ _

__She had actually @’ed him on his Weibo, before. Just a day or so after his and Jingyu's announcement of marriage. Or rather, the separate announcements that he and Jingyu had had made on He Jiong's advice – and while he had been rather preoccupied with signing the papers, being in a new country, realising how his husband had been living in the nearly four years they had been separated, he hadn't paid his Weibo any attention for almost two weeks. And then all _that_ had been overshadowed by the fact that he was going to perform in Wei's biggest annual event with barely a handful of weeks of notice. _ _

__There were never reports to the police. The only attempt to take someone to court was by Jingyu back in 2018._ _

__Apparently, Weizhou had married a cheating, wife-beating villain._ _

___Apparently_._ _

__Weizhou took a deep breath, and looked up._ _

__Jingyu was staring at him, eyes wide and anxious and—_ _

__"Jingyu," he said._ _

__"I would _never_ ," Jingyu said, and the words spilled out of him, hurried and _thick_ with that Dongbei accent that he had noted on Liu Yuning's words, and all that almost-perfect diction that he'd taught Jingyu, that Jingyu had trained in his years of filming, just disappearing in his rush to explain, to tell Weizhou— "I’ve never married anyone else. I’ve never _beat_ her, and I would never hurt you—" _ _

__Believe me, please, believe me, Zhouzhou. Don't _leave me_. _ _

__Weizhou dropped his phone, uncaring of where it clattered on the floor. Caught his husband's hands, squeezing his wrists._ _

__"You told me," he said, halting that torrent of almost-tearful speech. He could feel Jingyu's pulse rabbit against his thumbs. "You _told_ me that the first thing you learned in jiu-jitsu was that it was for self-defense." _ _

__Every martial artist in the modern world emphasized that: it was for self-defense. Self-control. Self-discipline. Even when they had fought, the final time, Weizhou using barrages of words, sharp and pointed and _precise_ , until Jingyu had nothing to retort in defense, wordless and out of shields, Jingyu had _never_ raised a finger against him. _ _

__Had never manhandled him outside of the requirements of filming _Addicted_ in anything but play. _ _

__Short of literal brain damage in the two years after their separation in 2016, there was nothing about Jingyu, what he might do, that Weizhou could believe would make him _capable_ of losing that self-control he had learned ever since he started taking martial arts. _ _

__"Zhouzhou," Jingyu said._ _

__"She started these accusations— when? 2018?"_ _

__2018 was when _Operation Red Sea_ was broadcast. The biggest piece of media that Wei and Wu collaborated on, with buckets of money from Wei; if he looked at it coldly, logically – this would be the best time to accuse Jingyu, wasn't it? A new, young actor propelled to international fame in the biggest film of Wei's film industry yet. _ _

__"She was— we dated for a little while in 2016," Jingyu said, and he looked almost frightened and _ashamed_. "After we broke up." _ _

__Weizhou tugged Jingyu's hands closer. "I don't care if you dated a hundred people between the time we broke up and now," he said. "You were free to date or fuck anyone you wanted."_ _

__Jingyu winced. "We broke up after— after two weeks."_ _

__"That's not the question here. Did she make any such reports after the time you broke up with her? Official reports?"_ _

__Jingyu shook his head._ _

__"Alright," Weizhou said. He had work to do. "I'll deal with it."_ _

__"Zhouzhou, my team, I have a lawyer to deal with these accusations," Jingyu said, and god he looked like a puppy, ears down and worried. "You don't have to. They'll take care of this, they're used to it."_ _

__"I'll talk to the lawyer," Weizhou said, trying to hide the quaver of rising anger behind reassurance. "I won't stress myself unduly, don't worry."_ _

__Weizhou wasn't going to ask how many times they'd had to 'take care' of such a scandal. The timing of this, this apparent attempted-suicide, was very questionable._ _

__Suicide was a cry for attention, and a message._ _

__She's gotten the attention – medical and otherwise._ _

__Weizhou had certainly _received_ the message._ _

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__"I'm not going to leave," Weizhou told his husband – they'd finally gotten home, and not once did he release his Jingyu's hand._ _

__Jingyu's own grip alternated between tight and clinging, and loose, like he was afraid of hurting Weizhou, of being _too_ clingy, and that seemed like yet more proof of how much he'd damaged his husband's psyche – the Jingyu of 2016 had never been anything but confident, smug with it; Weizhou's first impression of him was how strong and _assured_ Jingyu had been. _ _

__Weizhou had gently shooed his parents off to the other apartment – they'd been concerned with that phone message that Weizhou had seen, but he'd told them he was fine, _they_ were fine, and nothing was wrong. _ _

__Nothing was wrong because he'd deal with it._ _

__"Not after I have you back," he said, and got Jingyu back into bed, _their_ bed, and got him to curl up against him._ _

__"I didn't, Zhouzhou, _Xifu'r_ , I—" _ _

__"I believe you," Weizhou said, and pressed his mouth to Jingyu's, so that he'd at least focus on something else._ _

__Even though he was discharged, the doctors were adamant that he still needed at least a week before he started thinking about even light duty._ _

__Hands just, touching his husband, pulling him close, smoothing down his arms, wrapping around his waist, trying to promise him with his presence that he wasn't going to immediately evaporate._ _

__It still took hours yet before Jingyu fell asleep, despite the quiet in the middle of the Caos’ Beijing forest, far away from the firecrackers that people were setting off in the city somewhere._ _

__And even then, Jingyu's arms were curled around him, anxious and insecure._ _

__He could still turn in that embrace, though, and hook his phone up to its charging cable, and then, angling his phone to prevent the light from disturbing Jingyu, fired off a text to his manager, requesting the name and contact details of Jingyu's lawyer._ _

__Might as well get started._ _

____

____

* * *

____

____

__The lawyer was… informative. It had truly started in 2016 – according to the statements that Jingyu's crew had given the lawyer, Jingyu really had been with the woman for about two weeks. But there were no records of him marrying her._ _

__Weizhou's own digging into social media had told him that there were only web articles, not actual newspaper reports, of her claims of having been married and divorced. Just like Wu, Wei was very strict about newspapers being meant for actual real news – rumour and gossip was the province of tabloids._ _

__But even then reputation was easily smeared by gossip, no matter how unsubstantiated, no matter that it was all only on social media and online tabloid sites. Even the Wei fans had doubted Jingyu… until someone put up proof that from the records of Huang Jingyu's family household registry had had no recorded changes except for the year he'd bought his parents and siblings that farm._ _

__And even _then_ , Huang Jingyu had said nothing about her character, except for his lawyer and crew to refute the allegations of abuse and marriage, and to sue her for libel and damages once. After that the rumours had died down to simmer in the undergrowth like a cicada's larvae. _ _

__And _yet_... _ _

__He trusted Jingyu, he knew in his heart, Jingyu would _never_... _ _

__But the woman _was_ a woman, after all, of average height and build according to her threadbare wiki. And Jingyu was much taller than average as well as built _and_ a martial artist. Sometimes he was clumsy, and he was very strong.The very strength that made Weizhou's knees go soft and weak could be, with clumsiness, turn an accident into real injury. Unlike Weizhou, who was far more sturdily built, and could take a lot more rough-handling, that ex-girlfriend, like many Wu beta women he'd met, bruised far more easily. They deliberately cultivated delicacy, after all; learned to be as soft as tofu. _ _

__And violence was nothing to be scoffed at – Jingyu _was_ as strong as many Alphas, he couldn't deny that. He couldn't help but think of the threats he'd seen online, after _Addicted_ had been banned. The threats specifically about _him_. That an Alpha's knot would teach him the right way to behave. _ _

__So as much as he wanted to dismiss her claims flat out – he _knew_ that it was difficult to speak up in the face of violence. _ _

__He had to see what evidence she had._ _

__She had published photos of herself with Jingyu's parents and Jingyu's grandparents._ _

__The grandparents that Weizhou had not even met yet because Jingyu had said his grandparents were too old to travel._ _

__Which meant that she'd apparently been to Dandong. Close enough to Jingyu – and he might almost believe it, since he and Jingyu had met each other only on the first day of the filming and within two weeks he had thought it'd be _forever_. _ _

__Except… the fan who had asked Wei's Records on Household Registries had prompted others in Dandong to ask around. Jingyu's family had not made any statements, but the _neighbours_ of his predominantly rural farming community had been recorded showing _surprise_ and non-recognition of this girl who was supposedly the first and oldest daughter-in-law of Jingyu's parents. And maybe they had been ashamed of Jingyu's wife, except they had just rushed here to witness Jingyu's and _Weizhou's_ marriage, and even though it was literally the first time Weizhou had seen them, Jingyu's parents had welcomed him (more or less) as their in-law. _ _

__Worse, Weizhou realised, as he read through the comments – unlike in Wu, marrying a Wei citizen would automatically confer Permanent Residency on the non-Wei spouse. Weizhou himself had a Wei PR affixed on his passport now, with his citizenship application already sent in, only somewhat delayed because his household registry was being set up._ _

__There had been no such records of this woman getting Permanent Residency, let alone applying for Wei Citizenship, if she had really been married._ _

__In less than two weeks of her first accusation, Jingyu's fans in Wei had severe doubts about her claims._ _

__Weizhou studied the blurry pictures of her apparent bruises, the photos of her being solicitously helped off a car to the hospital._ _

__By…_ _

__He zoomed in, frowning. Be in the Wu Industry long enough, and you recognised certain signs, and certain… _vehicles.__ _

__Her assistants? Or bodyguards?_ _

__He hadn't heard of her before this and, in Shanghai especially, fame talked as loud as money. She had neither – so how could she afford such fancy transportation, and such expensive _bodyguards_?_ _

__She had a backer._ _

__Which explained the photos that the lawyer said Jingyu had no idea as to the origin of. Some sort of very professional photo manipulation._ _

__Someone was backing her, and willing to come up with bullshit to help her… get to Jingyu._ _

__He flicked off his phone, stared at the ceiling, and thought._ _

__She could make these kinds of accusations, particularly the more famous Jingyu became… because her _backer_ wanted something from him. Favours, money… _leverage_. _ _

__Jingyu was rich, but not rich in the kind of money that made it worth it. _Producers_ handled the kind of money Jingyu earned, but on a weekly basis. He was still relatively small-time; it wasn't like he commanded a huge international audience the way Fan Bingbing or Jet Li or Jackie Chan did. There were no favours he could do for Wu mobs from Wei… _ _

__Until now._ _

__Weizhou could feel the smile on his face – it stretched bitter and mirthless._ _

__Leverage. They wanted leverage, because Jingyu was the husband of a Cao Favourite now._ _

__He had a call to make._ _

____

____

* * *

____

____

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, XWZ is a very angry boi. One of the things that is… interesting about writing this pair is having the same event show how the two of them react very differently, even when both of them no longer care about themselves. It comes out in a different way. 
> 
> HJY's emotions are turned inward and eats at him – with no point in 'living', he makes sure he fulfills his duties: to his family, making sure they're materially provided for, to his colleagues and agency, because he'd promised to do/film things, take up contracts etc, but for himself, he doesn't make an effort to take care of himself. He'd broken out of the poverty cycle, ensuring that his family is materially and financially fine, but he reverted to his roots, as it were.
> 
> Just like HJY, XWZ reverted to _his_ roots. Or, rather, he returned to the kind of life his parents had brought him up in, materially lush and almost opulent, and he works hard to ensure that his parents don't worry about him. But he has no roots and no anchor, and distracts himself with working himself to the bone – and like a lot of omegas, was slowly working himself to death. The only thing that keeps him going is _anger_ – the unfairness of the ban drove him into something that is _productive_ , in that he's making a lot of music that is screaming at Shu's administration and the unfairness of the world. 
> 
> But he is _reckless_. Unlike HJY's, where his lack of self-care is mostly focused on himself, XWZ will take on the world, and he doesn't care that he'll die – as long as there's a body count with it. XWZ had gone _hard_ , with very little soft left, because he'd needed to protect himself without his safety. But with hardness comes _brittleness_. 
> 
> Neither is healthy, and neither is sustainable – they would eventually have imploded, if they had not met again and properly consummated their needs. 
> 
> They also are kinda unstable for quite a while.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Comments would be counted like shiny shiny pennies, I'm so lonely lol. 
> 
> Meanwhile I'm working my way through a drama series called 风起霓裳 (Weaving a Tale of Love) because I was curious as to what XWZ's latest drama was on about, and ... while the writing falls down at around episodes 28 onwards, the beginning is very VERY promising, especially since I cannot stop Wei AU-ing it while watching. Feel free to ask me about Tang Dynasty ABO and what it means to be a male beta wife in the Tang Dynasty omg. :D


	8. Weibo, Beijing, WEI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the relatively short chapter. The next one will more than make up for it. *stares at it*

"I'm going to deal someone a very public smackdown," Weizhou said as soon as He Jiong picked up his phone. "Will that cross any lines? Are Favourites allowed to do this?" 

Considering that he was already a symbol of some sort (maybe of the breakdown of Shu-Wei relations, like a giant middle-finger to Shu), anything out of his mouth on his Weibo would have… repercussions. 

And now that he was paying attention to social media, there were already rumours abounding. Wuhan had been locked down because of a novel, highly contagious virus. There was word that Beijing would be next.

(Of course Beijing would be next. All roads in Wei lead to Beijing, after all. Including Wuhan’s.)

"Since this is a delicate situation," Weizhou said, into the silence, "would this be something to distract the citizens – how would the Caos like this played?" 

There were a few more breaths of silence. 

"I'm very impressed," He Jiong said. "You do learn _fast_." 

"Thanks," Weizhou said, a tad impatiently. "Does that mean that there are people I can utilize? If the Caos want this huge and ugly, I can definitely make it huge and ugly." 

"How are your stress levels?" 

Weizhou blinked. "Last I was checked, only a little high considering my husband was just hospitalised. But better now he's out?" 

His levels, he was pretty sure, of _everything_ was coasting pretty well on a familiar rise of directed anger. 

"And are you sure you have the energy to sustain it?" 

Weizhou blinked _again_. "Of course? Why wouldn't I—" 

"Usually male betas have a rather difficult time adjusting to. Well." 

"Being… mated? Married? Being a Cao Favourite?" Weizhou said, a little perplexed by the sideways tangent. "Incensed that someone is trying to take advantage of my naive and vulnerable spouse? That part is definitely a little new. The spouse bit. But that just means plenty of energy to reduce them to rubble." 

"I was thinking more along the lines of 'pregnant', Zhouzhou." 

Oh. That. 

"I honestly barely notice I'm pregnant. It will be a bit of a problem … in six months." 

"Lucky you," He Jiong said, with something like heavy irony. Weizhou said absolutely nothing about the fact that as a male omega, He Jiong was supposed to have an easier time than Weizhou. 

He was personally starting to think that pregnancy being hard on male betas was a hoax cooked up by the Shu's shitty sex education department, to discourage beta men from getting pregnant, the same way that they apparently told the beta and omega girls all about terrible ways their lives would fail if they got pregnant before they graduated high school.

"You're also the only person in the world who would call Jingyu vulnerable and naive. Especially naive." 

Weizhou raised an eyebrow at He Jiong on his phone screen. 

"There has to be a reason these fuckers have targeted Jingyu," Weizhou said. "And these aren't small-timers – they have actual cash to throw around and raise a semi-plausible ruckus." 

Jingyu had managed to trigger or offend them somehow, the same way that newbies to the industry tripped over something: refused the wrong favour, accepted the wrong contract, or even just turned away from the wrong person.

And he now only had his one Wei lawyer and his crew to help him – there was that, at least, that Jingyu had lawyered up, instead of trying to go it alone. 

But _still_. 

He had had so much money – he could have bought more protection somehow— but… He didn't care about himself. Vulnerable was the _best_ word to use. 

He Jiong hummed, neither denying nor agreeing. "Do you think it's Wu triads, then, Or Shu gangs?" 

Weizhou cocked his head, thinking. "The men she has – the ones who allowed themselves to be seen on camera – they look like Wu. And if this was Shu—" 

All the way from 2016? Or just after? Jingyu had made it in 2017, 2018, his career much smoother than Weizhou's, but it had _still_ been of minor fame. Weizhou could name half a dozen Wu actors of the same age and in the time frame who were far more influential with more Shu-flavoured levers to pull. 

"If it was Shu, they'd be targeting _me_." Weizhou had had so many songs screaming about the injustice and unfairness of Shu's societal structures that an attack would have come for him directly, not via the ex-boyfriend whom he had not seen until literally months ago. "And I was in Wu for so long. Untouched." 

"I'll check it up to see if there's any reason for anyone in Shu to target you or him," He Jiong said, "in this manner. In all honesty, I do not think this incident is about you. But him." 

Weizhou nodded. Yes, see? Jingyu had tripped up somewhere. Wu was _dangerous_ for the unsuspecting. "And you say that no one would call him naive." 

"He has a remarkable amount of sense and maturity for someone his age," He Jiong remarked gently, "He's seen a lot of the world, and especially from the bottom of the barrel." 

"And he still got targeted by this— disgrace and insult to actual victims of domestic abuse. The fact that she would..."

Come up with something so horrible just to tarnish his Jingyu's reputation? The worst part, he thought, was that it was both _believable_ and _low-hanging_ fruit – the common person on the street would know Jingyu practiced martial arts and _therefore_ physical violence was very easy to believe of him. It was because of people like her that victims couldn't speak out so easily. "I'm going to make _sure_ that none of these fuckers dare to touch Jingyu again." 

He Jiong exhaled. "Do what you need to – don't hold yourself back. But don't humiliate yourself." 

Weizhou studied He Jiong's face on his phone. Which meant… Don't make baseless accusations. Have the proof, and don't be stupid. 

"Ask Wang Xi to get a few people to check up on their motivations," He Jiong said, drumming his fingers on the desk for a moment. 

"... Do I just… call his name like XiaoAI?" Weizhou asked. He didn't have Wang Xi's number. "... In fact are those his people outside my door, the ones who are like, Chinese James Bond?" 

"Those are his people, yes," He Jiong said, one corner of his mouth ticking up. 

"So I could just collar one of them and ask them to patch me into their boss?" 

"You could," He Jiong said. "Though perhaps the easier way would be to just send him a message from the WeChat group." 

"I don't have his username," Weizhou pointed out. 

The _other_ corner of He Jiong's mouth twitched up. "His userpic is that bloodied smiley." 

The bloodied smiley emoji… like from the Watchmen. 

Weizhou stared at him. "That user has no _name_." 

"He likes playing at being a super spy," He Jiong said.

Weizhou was pretty sure that if a man bossed around actual spies, had a name-less profile on Weibo and WeChat which was impossible for just _anyone_ to achieve… if it walked like a duck, quacked like a duck, it was a super spy duck. 

"Right," Weizhou said. "I'll… message him. How many of his men can I co-opt to go threaten her with?"

"That's not my department, you'll have to extract that favour from him," He Jiong said. "Go get some rest – you only just got Jingyu out of the hospital didn't you? Even if your pregnancy is completely smooth sailing, it's not exactly effortless." 

"I'm not really tired—" 

"You're literally building a new person inside of you," He Jiong said severely, suddenly all maternal in a way that was _exactly_ like his own mother, so much so Weizhou glanced to the door, half expecting his mother to come bursting in with some sort of soup meant to boost his weight, strength, blood and baby-building capabilities. "That's not something to scoff at. Go lie down." 

Weizhou inched himself down a little more on the bed. 

"I'm already in bed," Weizhou muttered. 

"Good boy. Go to sleep now. Call Wang Xi when you wake up." 

"Or I could call him now—"

"I can have your phone shut off right now." 

And they made fun of Wang Xi for being a super spy, Weizhou thought, as he scooted down further, and tucked himself against Jingyu's side. 

"I'm sleeping. See? Sleeping now." 

"Good. I'll update you on possible motivations from Shu later. Good night." 

It wasn't evening yet, but _fine_. He could call Wang Xi after He Jiong hung up. 

Maybe in ten minutes.

* * *

"I need a favour." 

Wang Xi had wondered when Xu Weizhou would ask; immediately after He Jiong hung up, or after a proper two-hour nap. 

The boy had taken an hour – he hadn't bothered checking the boy's apartment cameras, because he had quite a bit more to do: organising the security for his main responsibilities, and ensuring that there was a broadcasting system set up for the Old Story and Liu Yuning. 

He had been a little surprised that the omega Liu Yuning had turned out to catch Wei's imagination quite _so_ much – not when somehow he'd slipped under the radar so completely before being voted on to Our Song by his fans in _Wu_. 

But the Shameless Shu Slut had all but adopted Liu Yuning, taking him under his wing, and whatever else Zheng Yunlong was, his ability to read character was very, _very_ good. 

Besides, his Smol seemed to like Liu Yuning a _lot_. 

"What favour?" Wang Xi said. 

"I want _her_ to know she can't touch my husband." Xu Weizhou's voice was very steady. Was he really just twenty-five? There were few who were so sure of themselves, so full of _conviction_ , at twenty-five, only a handful of years out of university and still uncertain of the world. 

Or rather, few such people outside of the kind that Ziwei surrounded herself (and thus him) with. 

Perhaps he should pay more attention to the people from Wu, if that was the kind of kiln that made people like Xu Weizhou. 

"Just her?" 

" _All_ of the black societies," Xu Weizhou said. "I'll settle for those in Shanghai, because Hong Kong is different, and won't muck around too much if Shanghai leaves off." 

Fascinating; someone so young already knowing so much of how the black societies worked in _Shanghai_ , when for all intents and purposes, this boy had had no such connections in Shu. 

"If you won't do anything—" 

Wang Xi didn't quite smile at the somewhat belligerent tone. Well there was that youth. 

"—then I'll do it myself, and it'll be big, public and _ugly_." 

"Interesting," Wang Xi said. "You have no backers that I could see in Shanghai, and your entire career there was done unprotected." 

Xu Weizhou smiled at his phone. With teeth. 

"I did wonder what Cao Zhi saw in you," Wang Xi said, just to see that smile almost turn into a snarl. "But then I'm reminded that he's still a Cao. He has his father's ability to read people." 

"Enough rubbish," Xu Weizhou snapped. "Are you going to help or not?" 

Wang Xi smiled faintly. "The background checks are already in progress; had been as soon as you called He Jiong." he tapped his table top. "Since you wish for _all_ of Shanghai to know… it's just a matter of widening the scope a little." 

Xu Weizhou visibly exhaled – slow and controlled. Wang Xi idly switched on a camera to that apartment – Huang Jingyu was prodding the induction cooktop in the kitchen, on the opposite end of the apartment from Xu Weizhou. 

"Alright," Xu Weizhou said, all traces of belligerence turned down to a proper low simmer. "If Jingyu calls you to tell you not to bother… Don't listen to him. Please." 

Huang Jingyu didn't have his number, Wang Xi didn't say, though he was placing a bet with himself as to which of these two would start just talking into their bugged phones like Wang Xi was XiaoAI. Like He Jiong said, it was impressive how quickly Xu Weizhou had picked up that there was a sphere of influence a Favourite could use, if they were willing to pay the price for it. But Huang Jingyu hadn't been at _all_ surprised at Wang Xi's showing up on Xu Weizhou's phone – Wang Xi was used to a lot more screaming when that happened. 

(Though the screaming tended not to last very long. Wang Xi _truly_ didn't have to act in the capacity that Ziwei had allotted him very often.) 

Even with the fact that Huang Jingyu had collapsed earlier in January, it seemed like he was the calm steady anchor in that relationship while Xu Weizhou was the intellectual fire. Their health was just odd biology; the relationship… Well. 

It'd be interesting. 

"Huang Jingyu is not my responsibility," Wang Xi said mildly, and left the unspoken _You are._

"Because Jingyu is _mine_." 

In all senses of the word, huh, Wang Xi thought. He hummed, a simple acknowledgement. "I do not overreach my domain. Is there anything else?" 

Xu Weizhou bit his lower lip. Then shook his head. "No. That's it, I think. Thank you." 

Wang Xi hummed again. "Well. Consider if you're going to stay in Beijing," he said.

"... because?" 

"Rumours," Wang Xi said, and let Xu Weizhou draw his own conclusions. 

Cao Zhi had already authorized an increase in security for this new Favourite – specifically, if he was ever left alone without his husband. And right now, his husband was physically on shaky grounds, and by Wang Xi's judgement, had to be considered inadequate protection for the pregnant Xu Weizhou. 

Beijing was the Caos' own home territory, but soon enough, Xu Weizhou was going to need to nest, especially since he was a male beta. Their prep for nesting periods started earlier than beta women and omegas, and postpartum confinement and recovery tended to take longer. Xu Weizhou had already put in a request for his own living arrangements in Beijing city proper, but it would take a while more. With the rumours (not… really rumours) about Beijing about to go into lockdown, such a living situation wouldn't be happening any time soon. 

No one in their right mind would want to have a _child_ in the middle of a forest right next to Cao Zhi. Meanwhile, Huang Jingyu had a whole social support network in Dandong. Until he got his own housing in Beijing, Wang Xi was pretty sure that Dandong was the safest option to stash Xu Weizhou – and Huang Jingyu was likely to agree. 

"When do I need to give you an answer to _that_?" 

"Soon," Wang Xi said, and swapped his screens back to Gazi's house. Neither Gazi nor Zheng Yunlong were there at the moment, but the crew installing cameras were. "One week." 

Xu Weizhou frowned at him. He could tell that the boy knew that 'rumours' weren't really rumours anymore. 

"I'll let you know," he said at last. 

"Drop me a message on WeChat," Wang Xi said, "And arrangements will be made." 

Then he hung up before Xu Weizhou could voice yet another statement of gratitude he could see forming on his tongue. 

It was his duty – he didn't need to be thanked for doing the work he'd been given.

* * *

On Xu Weizhou's Weibo, he replied to the ex-girlfriend's post – one of the earlier ones with the pictures of her being helped out of a car at a hospital's drop-off point. 

The men in the photographs were circled in bright glaring red. 

_Anyone who has worked long enough in Shanghai can recognise slick suits like these. You can't afford them: who is your backer? Come, tell Auntie Zhouzhou your problems. If you're in debt Auntie Zhouzhou can help you figure out your finances._

The tone was completely and utterly _mocking_ , pointedly and condescendingly putting himself as a older generation than her – and his fans were helpfully spreading it around, with more comments such as _don't get in bed with loansharks!_

His fans at least knew how to read the room, Weizhou thought, watching more and more of those comments pour in, both @’ing him and her, all in that same faux-educational tone. 

Don't get involved with loansharks. 

Don't do favours for gangsters. 

This is a PSA for youngsters like you: be careful of slick people in slick suits! 

Children shouldn't play with big boys without your parents' knowledge. 

"Xifu'r?" Jingyu said, putting down a bowl next to his laptop. "... are you—" 

His husband paused at the sight of his screen. "Is… is she bothering you too?" 

Before Jingyu’s brain could spiral into things worse than _that_ , such as doubt and insecurity, Weizhou was reaching up to tug his husband close. "I've dealt with her," he said. "And your lawyer is looking into whether we can take a court order against her trying to harass you, or sending any of her people against you." 

He smiled – Jingyu looked reassured, so he didn't have to explain the _other_ prong of attack that he had asked Wang Xi to send his men to do. The _actual_ fight was Wang Xi's men divesting her of her support and warning these backers to back the fuck off Jingyu – all to take place in closed rooms with people who knew just how to apply pressure in private. 

(Weizhou's time in Shanghai hadn't been in _vain_. There's a reason he could walk around with pierced empty ears, after all.) 

This was just the public fight – a perfectly reasonable, perfectly polite response that no one could truly take offense at. Just two celebrities conversing on social media, and also fixing the public tide of opinion of this scandal. With the added benefit of himself taking the role of the older and more experienced _matron_. 

After all, he thought, drawing Jingyu down to kiss him, if they ever met during the Spring Festival, _he_ would be the one giving _her_ a hong bao. 

Shu wanted him to cling madly to the role of the husband and provider? They could fucking _suck_ it. 

"You should eat something," Jingyu said, pulling away to study his face. "You'd been sitting at the computer for hours." 

"Not that long," Weizhou said. " _You_ were in the kitchen for hours, I had just been lying down on the couch earlier." 

"Still not good for your eyes," Jingyu said, "And you were working on my issue—"

"What affects you affects me," Weizhou said, and wondered whether Jingyu was going to check his Weibo later. One of their CP fans might eventually @ Jingyu, and then he might see this. 

But it was all so very civilised – she'd tried to call herself older sister, _jiejie_ , Weizhou was going to be her _Auntie_. Auntie her to _death_ , until she got sick of the _thought_ of trying to mess with either of them. 

"The lawyer will take care of it," his husband said. 

Oh, yes – he really was taking care of it, Weizhou thought, but he would have… help. 

To distract him, Weizhou tugged at his husband, starting to stand. 

And his silly husband made a noise of concern and pulled _him_ into his arms, scooping him right up—

"I was going to eat," Weizhou protested. 

"In bed," Jingyu said. 

"Your _heart_! Your everything!" 

"I'm already recovered," Jingyu said, and just took Weizhou back to the bedroom like _Weizhou_ was the invalid, even though it hadn't been him in the hospital not a few days ago. 

And he got deposited on the bed, and his husband – loveable, silly, so so _beloved_ – went to fetch him that bowl of food he'd spent hours working on. 

If Weizhou didn't do anything, he'd end up getting fed in bed. 

So as soon as Jingyu put the bowl down on the side-table, Weizhou reached up to yank his husband's shoulders – Jingyu automatically rolled with the motion, avoiding landing on Weizhou. Weizhou pushed, taking full advantage of his husband's clear intention to _avoid_ hurting Weizhou to end up happily perched in his husband's lap. 

"This is much more comfortable," Weizhou said, beaming down at Jingyu, and leaned over to snag that bowl. "Did _you_ eat?" 

Jingyu opened his mouth — Weizhou stuck a spoonful of fried rice into his mouth. "Taste-testing everything doesn't count as eating," Weizhou said, and wriggled, purposefully rocking down on his husband's lap until Jingyu made a noise, and carefully sat up, conscientiously making sure Weizhou wasn't jostled and now he was in his _favourite_ position – wrapped up by his husband. 

They both were still wearing pants – but that could probably be fixed as soon as the food was gone. 

"I _had_ eaten," Jingyu said after swallowing his mouthful. "Xifu'r should eat." 

"I _am_ ," Weizhou said, and took a spoonful too. "See?" 

"Good." 

Weizhou beamed at him and held up another spoonful to his husband's lips. Obedient to his wife's desires, Jingyu opened _his_ mouth to eat too – just like that, one spoon each, the bowl was soon empty, and as _soon_ as he put the bowl aside, Jingyu rolled HIM to his back. 

"Wait," Weizhou said, "the doctors— your heart—" 

"The doctors already cleared me," Jingyu said. 

"Oh if they'd cleared you," Weizhou said, and hooked his legs up over Jingyu's hips. "Carry on then."  


* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very pleased with this chapter. It is the one where I actually got to show the scope of what a Favourite can do– which Ayg and ZYL and Smol are actually fairly useless at using to show because they had _chosen_ not to utilize their political and social power. 
> 
> But XWZ had not. >:D
> 
> Also: Super spy duck. Quack quack. 🦆

**Author's Note:**

> And this is the fic that never ends...


End file.
